


Lessons in Humanity

by exclamation



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Derek Needs Therapy, Derek Needs To Use His Words, Feral Derek, M/M, Werewolf Courting, dead animal gifts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-04 17:24:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 40,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3075632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exclamation/pseuds/exclamation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fleeing from werewolves, Stiles comes face to face with Derek, a werewolf human in shape but animal in his mind. Stiles is terrified of being killed, but it seems Derek has decided Stiles would make a suitable mate. Unfortunately, his idea of a romantic gift is a dead animal on the doorstep. Stiles must help Derek remember what it is to be human... and figure out how to explain his new werewolf stalker to his dad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Deutsch available: [Lessons in Humanity (Übersetzung)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8419309) by [MissTerioes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissTerioes/pseuds/MissTerioes)



> New year, new fic. 
> 
> There are a couple of stories that deserve a mention here because different aspects of this story draw inspiration from them. The first is [Must Be Bunnies](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2043630), a very short and sweet story with a feral Derek. The other is [Random Craigslist Missed Connections](http://archiveofourown.org/works/477917), a longer piece but also sweet, which includes Stiles giving Derek lessons on dealing with people.

Even with light from the full moon, running through woods at night was filled with hazards. Roots tripped, branches scratched, loose stones skidded under Stiles’ feet, nearly sending him flying. Stiles was scraped and bruised but still he tore headlong between the trees. Because out there were things far worse than brambles and poison ivy. Out there were things that howled and snarled. Things with glowing eyes. 

Stiles hadn’t got a good look at them but he wasn’t sticking around to see better because glowy-eyed and snarly didn’t bode well. He heard sounds in the undergrowth and tried to speed up, despite his protesting legs and the burning in his lungs. 

He saw light up ahead, the trees thinning out. Then he stumbled into a clearing around a large house. Stiles didn’t have time to think about what kind of weirdos would live out in the middle of the woods. He just ran up the porch steps and pounded on the front door with his fist. 

“Hey!” he yelled. “Hey, let me in! Please. There’s something out here.” 

He looked behind him and saw points of light, in pairs of yellow and blue, shining out of the shadows under the trees. He was not going to die on someone’s doorstep. He tried the handle. To his delight, the door opened. Stiles was inside in a heartbeat, slamming the door behind him and leaning back against the wood. 

For a few minutes, all he did was breathe, heaving in huge gasps of desperately needed oxygen. He tried to get his racing heart under control. He was alive. He was safe. He’d just broken into someone’s house, but that beat being ripped apart and eaten. 

He looked around at the place he found himself. It was a large hallway with doors into the rest of the ridiculously sized house, and stairs up to a railed landing above. There were a few bits of furnishing, neat and functional, lit from above by a chandelier fitted with energy-saving bulbs. It all spoke of a normal and probably very well off owner, except for what looked like claw marks scratched deep into the hardwood floor and into the polished wood of the staircase. 

Maybe the owner had a big dog. Stiles felt a sudden dread that he was going to find the owner mauled and mutilated by those things outside. 

“Hello?” Stiles called out. “Is anyone home? Sorry for barging in on you like this but there were things out in the woods. If you’ve got a phone, I can call my dad and then I’ll be out of here.” 

His own phone was somewhere out in the woods. He’d dropped it trying to dial his dad and run away from monsters at the same time. 

There was no answer from inside the house. Maybe no one was home. Well, Stiles had tried to be polite but there was no point standing by the door all night. There had to be a phone around here somewhere. 

He tried one of the doors and found a dining room with a long table. At least a dozen people could fit round it for meals but right now it was empty and silent. The whole room was slightly eerie, but that might have been a result of Stiles’ anxiety rather than the place itself. He walked through the room and through another door at the other end, stepping into a large kitchen. It was big enough and well equipped enough to suit the room for big dinner parties. Stiles didn’t see a phone, but he saw something equally welcome: a sink. He was dripping with sweat after his sprint through the woods and his throat was parched. 

He hunted through a couple of cupboards until he found glasses. He filled one with water and downed it in a single, huge gulp. He filled the glass again and sipped more carefully. He turned round to face the room and jumped, nearly dropping the glass and ending up with water down his front. Stiles put the glass down on the kitchen counter before he embarrassed himself further. 

There was a man standing in the doorway, staring at Stiles. He was tall and dark-haired, dressed in a loose shirt and pants that did nothing to hide the lean bulk beneath. His face would have been gorgeous if it weren’t for the angry scowl on it. 

“Sorry,” Stiles said. “I don’t know if you heard me when I came in but there were things out there I needed to get away from.” 

The man stalked across the room towards him, still scowling. 

“I don’t mean to intrude but if you’ve got a phone I can call my dad and he can come pick me up.” 

The man hadn’t said a word. It was starting to freak Stiles out. The man just walked across the kitchen to Stiles, standing right in front of him and glaring into his eyes. 

“Hey! Personal space,” Stiles protested. 

He tried to edge away when Tall, Dark and Creepy slammed a hand out. The hand gripped the edge of the kitchen counter beside Stiles. Then the man put his hand on the counter on the other side of Stiles. Stiles was left effectively pinned between two strong arms. Stiles found his heart racing almost as much as when he’d been running through the forest. This might be hot if it weren’t so terrifying. The guy’s muscles meant serious business, like he could break Stiles in two without even trying. 

“Look,” Stiles said, “I think maybe you’ve got the wrong idea here.” 

He put his hands on the guy’s chest and tried to push him away but that only resulted in Stiles groping solid muscle. 

The man didn’t seem to notice that Stiles was trying to get away. He leaned in closer, tilting his head and sniffing at Stiles’ neck. 

“If that’s your way of saying I smell that’s because I’ve just been running through the woods. If you object so much, maybe you should back off.” 

But the man didn’t seem to object. He buried his face into Stiles’ neck and nuzzled. Stiles squirmed and tried to pull away. 

“Stop it! Get off me!” 

The man didn’t seem likely to stop. 

Stiles grabbed the water glass and slammed it into the side of the guy’s head. 

The man gave a yelp of pain and stepped back just a little. It was enough for Stiles to duck under one of the trapping arms and make a bolt for the door. 

Hands grabbed him from behind. Stiles kicked out. He tried to pull free. He twisted in the grip but just ended up losing balance. He hit the tiled floor and rolled onto his back to try and get up. But then the man was there, sitting across his legs, hands on his shoulders, pinning him down, holding him trapped. 

Stiles got a good look at the guy’s face. There was blood on the side of his cheek from where the glass had cut him but, even as Stiles watched, the blood receded. The cut healed over into flawless skin. Holy crap! That was not normal even by the standards of this night. 

“What are you?” Stiles asked. 

The man leaned down over Stiles, nuzzling again at his neck. 

“Oh god,” Stiles said, “I’m being held prisoner by someone with magic healing abilities and an obsession with my neck. You’d better not be a vampire.” 

The man, if he was a man, made an angry growling noise in Stiles’ ear. 

“So you don’t like vampires then?” Stiles asked. 

There was another angry growl. It sounded animalistic in quality. Stiles thought about the howls he’d heard earlier and the full moon up above. 

“Are you a werewolf?” Stiles asked. 

Something warm and wet ran up Stiles’ cheek. 

“Oh god, did you just lick me? That’s seriously not cool.” 

The man licked Stiles’ cheek again like an excited puppy. There was definitely something canine about the behaviour. 

Stiles tried to think how he was going to get out of this because the werewolf was strong. Stiles’ efforts to break free of him were all failing. Reasoning with him didn’t seem to be an option either. Stiles wondered if the guy had any human reasoning right now. 

“Great,” Stiles muttered. “So this is how I die, used as a chew toy by a werewolf. Well, I didn’t see it coming.” 

The guy sat up a little, staring down at Stiles, angry scowl deepening. He opened his mouth, apparently struggling as he shaped his lips around a single word: “Safe.” 

“I’m safe?” Stiles asked. “I don’t feel safe. I’m being pinned on the ground by a crazy werewolf with no concept of boundaries.” 

The werewolf frowned at him but this time it seemed more puzzled than angry. Then he stood up. The instant Stiles was free, he scooted backwards, putting some distance between them. When his back hit the wall, he put his hands against it and pushed himself up to standing, fighting against the trembling of his legs. 

The werewolf just stood there in the middle of the kitchen. He was looking at Stiles and still scowling. The werewolf’s eyes tracked downwards and he made another growling noise. 

Stiles followed the gaze. There was a long scratch on his arm. He hadn’t even noticed in all the fear but now he felt it as a mild stinging pain. He must have caught his arm on a branch or something when he’d been running earlier. He wondered if the blood was triggering the werewolf. He didn’t want to get killed over a scratch. 

The werewolf stalked towards him again. Stiles considered making a break for it but he wasn’t sure he’d do any better out there. Then the werewolf was in front of him again. He took Stiles’ hand and lifted up the injured arm. He at the scratch and then, before Stiles could react, leaned down and ran his tongue along the length of the scratch. 

“No!” Stiles said. “We don’t clean injuries by licking them.” 

The werewolf gave him a puzzled look. Then he leaned down to lick again. 

“No! Bad werewolf!” 

The werewolf stopped. He looked at Stiles. 

“We don’t lick cuts,” Stiles said. “We use water and antiseptic.” 

Stiles guessed that might have been too big of a word. The werewolf seemed to grasp the concept of no but not much else. He really didn’t seem to like the cut though. Or he liked it too much as was treating Stiles’ blood as an appetiser. Stiles wasn’t sure. 

He didn’t get why the werewolf was freaking out about a minor cut. It wasn’t even bleeding anymore. In a day or two it would be gone. The werewolf put his fingers over the cut. A moment later, the sting of the cut vanished, along with several aches and sore patches that he almost hadn’t noticed until they were gone. 

The werewolf looked Stiles in the eyes again and there was something almost hopeful in his gaze. 

“Nice work,” Stiles said, then added, “Good boy.” 

The werewolf’s face burst into a smile. It lit up his face like the sun. Stiles wondered if he was a terrible person for finding this guy unbelievably hot when he clearly wasn’t firing on all cylinders. 

The werewolf was still holding Stiles’ hand. It was weird and creepy but it was better than being pinned. The werewolf seemed calm now and so maybe he could grasp concepts slightly tougher than no. 

“Is there a phone?” Stiles asked. “A phone.” He held up his hand to the side of his head in a mime that the werewolf clearly didn’t seem to get. 

“Of course not,” Stiles muttered, “because that would be too easy. All I want to do is call my dad and go home because this has been a seriously weird night and I’d like to just crawl into bed and pull the covers over my head until the world starts making sense again.” 

The werewolf started moving. He started towards the door, still holding Stiles’ hand. Stiles followed, not sure if this was an insanely bad idea or if the werewolf had understood the message. Stiles followed him through the dining room and back to the hallway. For a moment Stiles considering running for the door but the other things were still out there. He would probably be in at least as much danger from them as he was from this guy. 

So Stiles let himself be led up the stairs. There was a corridor lined with doors but the werewolf led past them and to another flight of stairs, this one narrower and unlit. Stiles felt a growing apprehension as he was taken deeper into the house. The stairway ended in a door. The werewolf apparently understood handles because he opened it easily. Stiles walked through into a moonlit room. Huge windows were set in the sloped roof, letting the full moon shine through, bathing everything in silver. 

The first thing Stiles noticed was the bed. It was a big four-poster made of what appeared to be wrought iron. Stiles couldn’t imagine how they’d managed to get such a monstrous thing in here. The second thing Stiles noticed were the chains. They were secured to the posts of the bed. Dread tore through Stiles at the thought of what they might imply. 

The werewolf turned to face Stiles, his frown maybe showing signs of concern now. 

“Home,” he said. “Bed.” 

Apparently it had understood some of Stiles’ words, just not the one Stiles had wanted. There was no sign of a phone. 

Stiles knew he should probably run but curiosity drew him across the room, the werewolf sticking by his side. There were deep scratches in the wall above the bed: claw marks. There were more scratches on the wooden floor and on the few bits of mismatched furniture. Even the bed clothes appeared to have inexpertly stitched repairs where someone had torn gashes in them. This was the werewolf’s room, the place he recognised as home. Stiles just wasn’t sure what happened now. 

The werewolf seemed to realise Stiles’ reluctance. He let go of Stiles’ hand. 

“Home,” he said. “Safe.” 

The werewolf left the room and shut the door. Stiles went to one of the windows. Maybe he could make a rope out of the sheets and escape. But a pair of yellow eyes gleamed in the darkness. 

So that the left the question, did he trust the werewolf when he said Stiles was safe? 

If he got through the night, his dad would get worried that Stiles hadn’t come home and would probably send the whole the Beacon Hills Police Department out to look for him. Plus, it was possible that the werewolf would be more human tomorrow when the moon had set. So Stiles could stay here for the night and hope not to get eaten. 

He grabbed a chest of drawers and with considerable effort, dragged it in front of the door. He wasn’t sure that would keep out an angry werewolf but it couldn’t hurt. 

Then he went to the bed. He sat down on the edge and started the long wait until morning.


	2. Chapter 2

When Stiles woke, he hoped that he was home, safe and sound, and the events of the night before were all a terrible dream. He knew that wasn’t the case though, even before he opened his eyes. The room beyond his eyelids was too bright and the pillow just felt wrong. 

There came a knock on the door. Stiles sat up on the strange bed, instantly alert, ready for danger or monsters or something even weirder. 

“Hey, mystery guy,” said a girl’s voice beyond the door, “are you hungry?” 

Stiles considered. His aching body was feeling the impact of all last night’s running and there was a definite emptiness in his stomach. 

“Yes,” he said. 

“We’re having breakfast down in the dining room. Get down quick or the twins will eat all the bacon.” 

Stiles heard her feet retreating down the stairs. At least she’d sounded human. And if bacon was on the breakfast menu that it was hopeful that Stiles wasn’t. 

He leaned his weight against the chest of drawers, shoving it out the way of the door. He hadn’t heard anyone trying to get in so presumably the precaution had been unnecessary. 

He made his way downstairs and followed the sound of chatter and cutlery through to the dining room where it seemed breakfast was taking place on an industrial scale. A group of people, who all seemed to be within a year or two of his own age, were clustered around the table. There were mountains of food on serving plates in the middle of the table but those mountains were being eroded at an impressive rate. 

The chatter halted when Stiles walked in. Several piles of eyes stared at him curiously, then a curly haired boy waved to an empty seat that had a clean plate in front of it. 

“Dig in,” he said. 

Stiles sat down and started helping himself to eggs and bacon and toast from the serving platters. As he began to eat, there was no sign of the man from last night but the others were all eating eagerly. 

“I guess scaring the life out of people gives you an appetite,” Stiles said. 

Most of the group looked away. One of the girls, the dark haired one, met Stiles’ accusing glare. When she spoke, Stiles thought she was the one who’d spoken to him through the bedroom door. 

“Sorry,” she said. “When someone strange is in our territory, the instinct is to give chase, to drive out the threat. It can be difficult to stay in control under the full moon. Particularly without… well… when no one’s taking charge.” 

“And some of us are still learning to stay in control,” said the curly-haired guy. “The full moon’s tough to resist. Sorry.” 

At least they weren’t denying last night or trying to claim he’d imagined things. They did all seem to look ashamed for the terror they’d caused him, but Stiles wasn’t eager to forgive them for it. He could have tripped over a root and broken his neck in the darkness. There were other thoughts that lingered, worries that wouldn’t shift. 

“What would you have done if you’d caught me?” Stiles asked. 

One of the twins gave a burst of derisive laughter. The blond girl failed to hide her own laugh behind a hand. 

“We could have caught you any time we wanted,” the dark girl said. “However fast you might have run, we’re faster. Last night wasn’t about catching you, it was about driving you out. Only you go and stumble into the heart of our territory instead of running away from it.” 

Stiles wondered if his sense of direction could really suck that badly that he’d run towards the place they’d tried to chase him away from. Given how confusing and tangled the woods had been last night, he wouldn’t be surprised. It was good to know though that they hadn’t planned on eating him. 

“You didn’t follow me into the house though? You didn’t try to drive me out from here.” 

“He wanted you to stay,” the dark girl said quietly. Stiles thought about that guy, the one who'd found him here. 

“So what happens now?” Stiles asked. 

“You finish breakfast and I’ll drive you home,” she said. “If anyone asks, we will say we found you lost in the woods and offered you a bed for the night. Anything else you might claim, we will deny.” 

“Meaning that if I start claiming there’s a house full of werewolves out in the preserve, you’ll tell people I’m crazy.” 

She smiled, “I’m glad we understand each other.” 

Stiles knew he had little hope of making people believe him with stories of werewolves. At least they weren’t threatening him to keep him quiet. 

They were still eating when the guy from last night came into the room. He went straight for Stiles, wrapping arms round him from behind and snuffling his face into Stiles’ neck. 

“Derek, no,” said the girl. 

The guy, presumably Derek, looked at her in confusion and didn’t seem at all inclined to let Stiles go. He buried his nose into Stiles’ hair and sniffed. 

“Derek, we don’t sniff guests,” the girl said firmly. When Derek didn’t move, her tone became firmer and her eyes shone yellow, “Derek, sit!” 

She pointed to an empty chair across from Stiles. Derek let go of Stiles and slunk reluctantly round the table to the seat. Once there, he grabbed a sausage off the plate of the big, black guy sitting beside him. He ate it with his fingers. The black guy just speered another sausage from the serving plate. Derek didn’t seem to care for table manners. He just grabbed food from nearby, not caring if it was on someone else’s plate. 

He noticed Stiles watching and held out a half-eaten slice of bacon to him. 

“No thank you,” Stiles said. Derek shoved the rest of the bacon in his mouth in one go. 

“Wow, he must like you,” said one of the guys, one half of what was presumably a pair of identical twins. 

“Is he always like this?” Stiles asked. 

“Nope,” said a blood girl, who’d not spoken yet. “This is dramatic progress. This time last month, he was struggling with concepts like sitting at a table. And pants.” 

Stiles wasn’t sure what to make of this. He knew he ought to be scared of this guy but it was hard not to feel sorry for him. 

“What happened to him?” Stiles asked. 

“Don’t worry about it,” said the dark-haired girl. “We’re taking care of him.” 

Stiles felt that they hadn’t been taking much care last night when Derek had been pinning him to things. He didn’t say so though since Derek had been marginally less terrifying than the rest of them. 

“Are you done?” the dark-haired girl asked. 

“Yeah,” Stiles answered. 

“OK then. Let’s get you home.” 

As the two of them stood up from the table, Derek made a low growling noise. 

“Derek, we don’t growl at people,” the girl said. Then she continued to the door. They went out through the hallway to the front door but as soon as her hand went for the door handle, Derek was there. He slammed a hand against the door, holding it shut. He snarled at the girl. 

“Derek, we can’t keep him,” she said, unfazed. 

His eyes shone red. 

“No!” the girl said. The snarl deepened. So Stiles was going to be held hostage by a crazy werewolf. How the hell was this his life? 

“Derek, he needs to go home,” the girl said. 

“Home,” Derek repeated, a growl in the tone. The girl looked astonished but delighted, her face splitting into a grin. She put her arms around Derek. 

“Derek, you used words!” she said. “That’s amazing. Well done. I wish your timing were a little better but this is brilliant progress.” 

“He spoke to me last night,” Stiles said. The girl rounded on him in an instant. 

“What did he say?” 

“Not a whole lot. He said safe, home, and bed.” 

She looked at him like he’d declared he’d found the Holy Grail in his back pocket. 

“He hasn’t spoken in months.” 

“Well, he wasn’t much of a conversationalist last night.” 

“This is still incredible progress.” She turned back to Derek, “I’m really happy you’re talking. This is very good. But I have to take our guest home.” 

“Home,” Derek said again, angrily, eyes flashing red again. 

“No. This is not his home. He needs to go.” 

Derek moved to Stiles and wrapped his arms around him again. The hug was strong and solid, the arms not yielding in the slightest. Stiles felt like Derek could crush the life out of him without even trying. But the arms didn’t hurt at all. If he weren’t being held hostage, he might have appreciated the cuddles. 

“Mine,” Derek growled. 

“No!” the girl said. “Let him go. Bad, Derek! No!” 

The arms slid away from stiles’ body. Derek stepped away. 

“Bed, Derek!” She pointed up the stairs. He slunk away. The girl sighed. 

“Come on,” she said to Stiles. This time, no one stopped them leaving. She led him round the house to where a sleek, black Camaro was parked. 

“Not what I was expecting,” Stiles said. 

“It used to be Derek’s. Come on. Get in.” 

Stiles slid into the passenger seat and she drove them away from the house. 

“I’m sorry about Derek,” she said. 

“I take it he wasn’t always like that.” 

“No. He is getting better though.” 

“But what’s with all the sniffing?” 

“I think Aiden’s right. I think Derek really likes you.” 

“And when you say ‘like’?” 

“I think he’s decided you’d make a suitable mate.” 

“He has noticed I’m a guy, right?” 

“I don’t think he cares.” 

She drove on down a rough trail through the trees until they reached the road that marked the edge of the preserve. 

“I didn’t catch your name earlier,” Stiles said. 

“I’m Cora.” 

“Stiles.” 

“Nice to meet you, Stiles. Sorry about scaring you last night. And about my brother.” 

“Well, thanks for breakfast and for not letting Derek keep me as a pet.” 

“You’re going to need to give me directions now,” Cora said, so he started instructing her. It was easier than talking about werewolves wanting to mate with him. 

When they reached the house, Stiles saw his dad’s car already parked out front. He’d been vaguely hoping to get back before his dad finished the night shift. Now he would have to attempt an explanation. 

“Thanks for the ride,” Stiles said. Then he hopped out to face the music. 

His dad was on him the second he got through the door, first with a hug and then with a furious, “Where the hell were you?” 

“Lost in the woods,” Stiles said. “And I dropped my phone so I couldn’t call. Then I kept tripping over things in the dark so I figured it was safer to wait until morning.” 

“So whose car was that?” 

“Some girl called Cora. She found me trying to make my way home and I guess I must have looked really pathetic because she offered me a lift.” 

“Well, that was very nice of her. Now go get yourself cleaned up. You look like hell.” 

“Then I’m going to bed,” Stiles said. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.” 

“OK, kiddo.” 

Over a long shower, Stiles assessed the damage from the night before. There were several bruises and a few scrapes. The scrape on his arm was the worst but even that wasn’t deep. The dirt made everything look worse but once all that was scrubbed off it was clear he’d made it through surprisingly unscathed. 

He shut the curtains in his room and collapsed into bed. He’d got a little sleep last night but it hadn’t exactly been restful. It was pure delight to lie back on his own pillow and snuggle into his own covers. He shut his eyes and wrapped himself in the feeling of home and safety. 

The bed shifted under someone else’s weight. An arm reached across him. 

Stiles gave a yell. He sat up and grabbed something off his bedside table. He swung it at the pair of glowing red eyes and the shadowy form crouched on his bed. He hit it round the head. 

“No!” Stiles yelled. “Out! Get out!” 

The shadowy form retreated. 

The bedroom door burst open and Stiles was blinking in sudden brightness as his dad turned on the light. There was no sign now of an intruder, just the curtains flapping in the breeze from the now-open window. 

“Stiles? What’s wrong?” his dad asked. 

Stiles couldn’t think of a good lie but his dad wouldn’t think the truth was real anyway. 

“I thought there was a werewolf on my bed,” Stiles said. He was still holding a book, the item he’d grabbed from his bedside table. He set it aside now. 

“Well,” his dad said, “I guess a night in the woods isn’t conducive to good dreams.” 

Stiles nodded. 

“Sorry for scaring you,” he said. 

“Don’t worry about it. Sweet dreams.” 

His dad left. As soon as the door was shut, Stiles was across the room closing the window. He made sure that it was latched firmly closed. He thought it had been shut before but he hadn’t checked. He just had to hope that Derek couldn’t undo the latch from the outside. He really didn’t want a feral werewolf spooning him in his sleep. 

Even though he wasn’t disturbed this time, it took Stiles a long while to fall asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles was woken up by something rattling against his window. He was out of bed instantly, worried he might find a werewolf trying to break in again. Instead, he found Scott standing below, throwing stones against the window. 

“What the hell?” Stiles asked. 

“You weren’t answering your phone,” Scott said. 

“I lost my phone. Come on up and I’ll explain.” 

“I don’t want to get blood on my shoes.” 

“What?” 

A minute later, Stiles opened the door and surveyed the mess on the doorstep. He fought the urge to vomit. There was something dead on the step, lying in a pool of blood. The small animal had been stripped of his skin and fur and leaving a pink mass of flesh covered in blood. The thing still had a head and its eyes were looking up at Stiles. 

“I think it was a rabbit,” Scott said. “Why is there a dead rabbit on your doorstep?” 

“It’s complicated,” Stiles said. He wasn’t entirely sure but he had a strong suspicion who was responsible for this gruesome gift. 

He got a garbage bag from the kitchen so he could pick up the rabbit carcass, an experience he never wanted to repeat. He threw it in the trash. Then he hosed the blood off the step. Even though he’d been careful not to touch the thing, Stiles still felt the need to go to the sink and scrub his hands clean. 

“So,” Scott said, while Stiles lathered and rinsed for the third time, “what’s with the dead animal sacrifice?” 

“Short version,” Stiles said, “it turns out werewolves are real. I was chased by a pack of them last night and dropped my phone. Now it seems one of the werewolves has decided I’m a suitable mate and thinks dead animals are a romantic gift.” 

Scott stared at him a minute and then said, “Come on, Stiles, what really happened?” 

“That’s what really happened.” 

So they went up to Stiles’ room and Stiles went into the details of everything that had happened including Derek’s creepiness and declarations that Stiles now belonged to him. Scott spent the whole time looking at Stiles suspiciously. His expression clearly showed that he expected Stiles to declare this all a joke. 

When it was clear Scott wasn’t going to believe him, Stiles asked for a ride to the preserve so he could pick up his jeep, which was still parked on the edge of the woods. Scott wasn’t as entirely sucky friend so he agreed, borrowing his mom’s car and starting them towards the preserve. 

“We can also look for my phone,” Stiles said. 

“What happened to it?” Scott said. 

“I dropped it running away from werewolves. I told you.” 

Scott gave him a look of doubt. 

“You are a terrible friend,” Stiles said. “I am letting you in on incredible secrets and you think I’m lying.” 

“Seriously, Stiles? You expect me to believe in werewolves?” 

“When I tell you I’ve seen them, yes!” 

“You’re also the one who told me that gullible wasn’t defined in the dictionary.” 

Stiles gave a snort of laughter at that memory and then tried to look serious again when he said, “I’m not messing with you now.” 

They were at the edge of the preserve now and Scott parked right behind Stiles’ jeep. Then Stiles had to try and remember the route he’d taken before he’d had the life scared out of him by creatures with glowing eyes. 

“What were you even doing out here?” Scott asked, huffing along behind Stiles. He reached for his inhaler. 

“My dad got a call. Someone phoned the station and said she’d found some dead animal remains and that there might be demonic sacrifices going on. So I had to check it out.” 

“Or,” said Scott, “a coyote or mountain lion might have been hunting and left the remains.” 

Stiles paused and turned to Scott, who was struggling along behind. Stiles waited for him to catch up. 

“I think it might have been Derek,” Stiles said. 

“Stiles, are you going to stop talking about…” Scott froze. He stared at a point behind Stiles. Stiles turned and there he was beneath the trees. 

“Derek,” Stiles said. 

Derek walked slowly towards him. Stiles resisted the urge to run away. As he got closer, Derek held out a hand with a small, dark rectangle resting on his palm. It was Stiles’ phone. Stiles reached out and took the phone, checking it quickly for the signs of damage. 

“Thank you,” Stiles said. “Good job, Derek.” 

Derek burst into one of those brilliant, beautiful smiles. 

Stiles pocketed the phone. He was aware of Scott coming up beside him. Derek’s expression changed rapidly. He bared his teeth and snarled at Scott. 

“No,” Stiles said. “No snarling. Snarling is bad. Scott is a friend.” Stiles put his hands on Scott’s shoulders and repeated, “Friend. Don’t snarl at friends.” 

Derek just looked at him but at least he wasn’t snarling now. 

“Derek,” Stiles said, “did you leave me the rabbit? Because dead rabbits don’t make good presents. People don’t like dead bunnies on their doorstep. So no more rabbits. Understand?” 

Stiles tried to keep his tone gentle but Derek seemed to get that he was being told off. He looked despondent again. Stiles closed the distance between them and put a hand on his arm. 

“It’s OK,” Stiles said. “You’ll learn.” 

Derek moved quickly, wrapping Stiles in a hug. Stiles found himself trapped, arms pinned to his sides, while Derek snuffled into his neck. For a moment, Stiles just leg him. But Derek didn’t seem inclined to let go. 

“That’s enough now,” Stiles said. 

Derek didn’t let go. 

“Derek, let go,” Stiles said. 

Derek nuzzled the skin under Stiles’ ear and said, “Mine.” 

“Derek, let go,” Stiles said again, tone firmer. Derek reluctantly let go. 

“Much better,” Stiles said. “Goodbye, Derek.” 

Derek made a disappointed noise but he didn’t do anything to stop Stiles walking away. Scott hurried along beside him back to the cars. 

“Wow,” Scott said. 

“I know.” 

Stiles resisted the urge to look back at Derek. 

***

The next day, Stiles was woken up by his dad yelling in surprise. Stiles hurried downstairs. His dad was standing by the front door, staring at a dead deer. At least this one had its skin on but it was still a rather startling thing to find on the doorstep. 

“What the hell?” his dad asked. 

Stiles suspected he knew. He’d specifically told Derek no rabbits. Derek must have thought he was asking for something more impressive. And Stiles was a little bit impressed that Derek had killed a deer in an effort to win his affections. He was also more than a little scared because if Derek changed his mind, he could kill Stiles just as easily. Now Stiles stared at the dead deer and wondered what the hell he was supposed to do with it. 

“Maybe we could make venison sausages,” Stiles said. 

“But how did it get here?” his dad asked. Stiles couldn’t say that his crazy werewolf stalker was trying to be romantic. 

“Did you order a deer carcass on ebay?” Stiles asked. 

“Why the hell would I do that?” 

“I don’t know. I can’t think of a better explanation.” 

They stared at the deer for a minute. 

“Maybe there’s someone we could call,” Stiles’ dad said. 

“I wonder if Craigslist has a section on dead animals. Or maybe Freecycle. One large deer, free to whoever takes it off our hands.” 

His dad sighed and dragged a hand across his face. 

“I’ve got to get to work,” he said. “Can you figure out how to get rid of this?” 

Before Stiles could argue, he edged around the dead deer to get to his car. Stiles was left staring at the mound of flesh and fur. What was he supposed to do with a dead deer? 

It turned out that there wasn’t an entry for dead animal removal in the phone book. There were entries for pest control but none of them were willing to deal with a dead deer. One of them had laughed down the phone and declared Stiles had made his day, but he remained utterly unhelpful. 

Stiles tried a butchers, thinking they might be interested in fresh venison. He had a long conversation with a very confused butcher who first asked if Stiles had shot the deer. 

“No,” Stiles said. “I found it dead on the doorstep. But it looks like it’s in good condition. Aside from, you know, being dead.” 

The butcher carefully explained that he only sold meat from reputable suppliers. Then he hung up. 

Stiles could call a waste removal service but that seemed like a waste of what was actually a magnificent animal. The question about shooting the deer gave him another idea. He looked up the number of a rifle range. 

“I’ve got a weird situation,” Stiles said. “Someone left a deer on our doorstep and we don’t know how to deal with it. I was thinking you might have a hunter there who would know what to do and would want to have a free deer.” 

“I’ll ask around,” the guy said, which was the most helpful answer he’d gotten so far. He took Stiles’ address. 

Stiles spent a bit of time on his computer looking up how to deal with a dead deer. There were some YouTube videos on skinning and gutting that had him hitting the close button and fighting down a need to vomit. 

The doorbell rang and Stiles went to answer it. A man was standing there. It was Chris Argent, the father of one of the girls at school, the girl who had Scott drooling every time she walked by. Stiles hadn’t really met him before, but he’d seen him around enough to know who he was. 

“I hear you need help with a dead deer,” Argent said. 

Stiles looked down at the animal at their feet and couldn’t resist dead-panning, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Argent crouched down next to the deer, inspecting the deep gashes in the creature’s throat. 

“Did you see what did this?” Argent asked. 

“No, we just found it.” 

“It was clearly an animal kill but the kill didn’t happen here or there’d be more blood, which raises some interesting questions.” 

“I’m less interested in what did this than how to get rid of it.” 

“You should be interested,” said Argent. “It would take something very large to take down an animal this size.” 

“A mountain lion?” Stiles asked. 

“A mountain lion wouldn’t carry a kill somewhere else and leave it as a gift.” 

“I don’t know. We had a pet cat once that liked to leave dead birds on the mat as presents.” 

“It’s not the same. It’s very rare for wild animals to leave a kill untouched. Some drag a kill up a tree and leave it to rot a bit before eating, but not leave it like this. Some species will give gifts though to a prospective mate, to demonstrate that they can take care of a family.” 

Argent was looking at Stiles sternly. Stiles wondered what he might know and tried not to look guilty. 

“I’ve heard of people dating cougars,” Stiles said, “but this is pushing it.” Argent smiled a little. 

“So,” Stiles said, “can you help take it off our hands?” 

“I can help.” 

Argent went to his car and opened up the back, folding down seats to make room. He dragged out a large sheet of plastic and some twine. Without warning, Argent tossed the twine at Stiles. Stiles made a grab for it, fumbled, scrambled to stop it falling, and probably looked a complete idiot as he finally caught the twine against his stomach. Argent looked strangely satisfied. 

He laid out the plastic sheet and then made Stiles help carry the deer over onto it. Stiles really didn’t want to pick up the dead animal’s legs and lug it around but if Argent was going to get rid of this thing, Stiles wanted to speed up the process. 

“Not a big fan of blood?” Argent asked as they wrapped the sheet over the deer. 

“Is anyone?” Stiles asked. 

“You might be surprised what kinds of bloodthirsty killers you might find out in the woods.” 

He was looking closely at Stiles again. Stiles wondered if Argent knew something and was trying to figure out what Stiles knew. Of course, it was possible Stiles had been rendered paranoid by recent events. 

Together, they lifted the heavy thing up into the back of Argent’s car, with a lot of heaving and struggling on Stiles’ part. Then Argent fished out a business card. 

“If you have any other problems with wild animals,” he said. “Give me a call. Even if it’s something stranger than a deer. Especially then.” 

Stiles tried to keep his face cheerful. Argent had to know about werewolves. With all these hints, he had to be trying to figure out what Stiles knew. Stiles hoped he didn’t look guilty. He just thanked Argent for his assistance. He took the card anyway and then went to wash deer blood off his hands.


	4. Chapter 4

Stiles drove out to the house in the woods. It wasn’t hard to find because he couldn’t take a wrong turn once he’d started down the only track into the preserve. He parked in front of the house and had only just got out of his car when the front door opened. Derek bolted out of the house and launched at Stiles with enough force to nearly knock him off his feet. Derek wrapped arms around him and did the neck-nuzzling thing again. 

“Hi, Derek” Stiles said. Derek didn’t reply. He was too intent on rubbing his cheek against Stiles’. It was weird in a not-entirely-unpleasant way. It would better if Derek didn’t have such rough stubble. 

The door opened again and Cora came out, considerably more restrained than her brother. 

“Stiles,” she said, “I didn’t expect to see you again.” 

“Well your brother keeps leaving me gifts.” 

“Gifts? What kind of gifts?” 

“Dead ones.” Stiles tried to pull out of Derek’s hold and said, “Derek, no more dead animals. Dead animals are not romantic. No deer. No rabbits. Nothing. Humans do not like getting dead things as presents.” 

Derek pulled away. He looked upset again, and still frowned confusedly. He seemed to understand that he was being told off but not why. Stiles felt a little bad about upsetting him but he couldn’t take any more animal corpses on the doorstep. His dad certainly couldn’t. 

“He means well,” Cora said. 

“Maybe, but the gifts freak out my dad. And me.” 

She nodded. She came to Derek and put a hand on his arm. He leaned into her touch. 

“No dead animals,” she said. 

“Can I get your phone number?” Stiles asked Cora. “In case I need help with him.” 

They exchanged numbers. Then Stiles turned to leave. Derek reached out and grabbed Stiles’ arm to stop him. 

“Home,” Derek said. 

“This isn’t my home” Stiles said. Derek wasn’t willing to let Stiles go but Cora stepped in. Stiles got his arm back. Then he got in the jeep and drove away. He glanced into his mirror a few times. Derek stood there watching the whole time, a heart-breaking expression on his face. 

***

Stiles walked into his bedroom the following evening and gave a yelp of surprise. Something had just darted across the floor and under the bed. His dad arrived behind him to see what the noise was about. 

“I think we might have mice,” Stiles said. “There’s definitely something alive in here.” 

Stiles got down on his knees and looked under the bed. Something moved in the mess and shadows beneath. He pulled out his phone and used it as a flashlight to get a better look. 

“I think it’s bigger than a mouse,” Stiles said. His dad crouched beside him, looking at the pair of eyes reflected in the phone’s light. 

“Is that a cat?” his dad asked. 

“That’s what it looks like.” 

“Why is there a cat in your room?” 

“Maybe it’s a special deal: get a dead deer and get a live cat free.” 

“Stiles, be serious.” 

“I don’t know, OK.” Stiles spoke a little louder than necessary and the cat cowered behind a box of old books. He did know though. He’d been firm on the subject of dead animals so Derek must have decided to get him a living one. This was getting a lot harder to feign ignorance about, especially with Derek breaking into the house to leave this new gift. And now he was presenting Stiles with a terrified cat. 

“I’ve got an idea,” Stiles said. 

He headed downstairs and returned quickly with a can of tuna and a plastic laundry basket. He set the open can down next to the bed. He then lay down on the bed, holding the basket at the ready. He waved his dad back. 

It took several minutes of silence and stillness but eventually the cat crept out and started eating the tuna. Stiles dropped the laundry basket over it. 

The cat yowled and tried to scratch through the plastic, but it was trapped and now they could get a better look at it through the holes of the basket. It was a scrawny thing, with a torn ear and scruffy fur worn away in patches. Stiles wasn’t at all surprised to see that it didn’t have a collar. 

“It looks like a stray,” Stiles said. 

“It must have climbed in through an open window looking for food.” 

“I guess so.” 

The cat tried again to scratch them through the basket. 

“I’m going to call Scott,” Stiles said. “He might be able to get a carrier from Deaton so we can take it to a shelter.” 

“Good idea because I’ll need to do laundry eventually.” 

“I’m more worried that we don’t have a litter box under there.” 

While Stiles called Scott, his dad laid down some newspaper and then carefully edged the basket onto it, the cat complaining the whole time. It only quieted a little when it was allowed to eat the rest of the can of tuna in peace. 

This was ridiculous now. A live cat was theoretically a better gift than a dead one, but it was still more hassle than romance. Still, Stiles had to admit that Derek was trying. He was adapting based on what Stiles said he didn’t like, he just didn’t have the right idea about what would be appreciated. What he needed more than anything else was a crash course in how human courtship worked. 

Scott arrived with a carrier and then they all stared at the laundry basket with its angry contents. It was Stiles who finally voice what they were all thinking: “How the hell do we get it into the carrier?” 

The cat would probably run as soon as they lifted the laundry basket off it. They wouldn’t even be able to use bait because the cat had just eaten an entire can of tuna. 

“Any ideas?” Stiles asked Scott. 

“Maybe it will calm down if we leave it a bit.” 

“I don’t think it understands the concept of calm.” 

Stiles’ dad was looking at the cat with an expression of amused frustration. 

“I’ve dealt with dangerous criminals,” he said. “It shouldn’t be this difficult to deal with a half-starved cat.” 

“Do you want to put it in the carrier?” Stiles asked. 

“No. No. No. No. No. No.” 

There was another pause while they stared at the cat. 

“Could we call animal control?” Scott asked. 

Stiles wondered about calling Argent. He had promised to help out with other animals. But Stiles didn’t want him knowing that Derek was still giving him presents. 

“Maybe we could wait until it falls asleep and then shove it in the carrier,” Stiles suggested. The cat didn’t look like it planned on sleeping any time soon, but it had to sooner or later. After all, cats were famous for sleeping a lot. 

“Try that and you’ll get scratched to death,” Scott said. 

After another few minutes, Stiles’ dad muttered, “Screw this,” and walked out of the room. When he came back, Stiles tried very, very hard not to laugh. His dad was dressed for battle in a thick, winter coat and oven gloves. 

“Stop laughing,” he told Stiles, “and find something to pen it in with.” 

So Stiles and Scott held the bed clothes in a curtain wall around the basket to try and corral the cat. Then Stiles’ dad lifted the basket and made a grab for the cat. He managed to get it into the carrier but the oven gloves would never be the same again. 

Scott picked up the furiously snarling carrier and said, “I’ll take it to Deaton for a check-up in the morning and then give it to a shelter.” 

Stiles went to see Scott out. As they walked towards the car Scott had borrowed from his mom, the cat got frantic again. Then Stiles heard the low growling. 

Derek was standing on the sidewalk, eyes shining red in the fading dusk. He was growling at Scott. 

“We don’t growl at friends,” Stiles said, hoping they weren’t about to get gutted by an angry werewolf. Derek bared his teeth at Scott and snatched the carrier, cat and all, from his hands. He snarled again. 

Stiles realised how this must look to Derek. The cat had been a courtship gift from Derek to Stiles and now Stiles was giving it to Scott. Derek must see Scott as a romantic rival. Stiles needed to do something before Scott got killed in a display of strength. He stepped up to Derek. He put one hand on Derek’s arm and with the other he took the handle of the carrier. 

“Humans don’t do things this way,” Stiles said slowly. “Humans don’t give their mates angry stray cats. Humans have dates. I’ll show you what humans do.” 

“You’re going on a date with him?” Scott asked. 

“I’ve got a plan.” 

Stiles kept eye contact with Derek as he slowly pulled the carrier away from him. Derek let go. Stiles put the carrier in the back of Scott’s car, trying to look at Derek as much as possible. 

“I’m not sure I should leave you with him,” Scott said. 

“I’ll be fine. Derek won’t hurt me.” Stiles wasn’t completely certain of that but he thought Scott was more likely to be at risk. So Stiles waited calmly beside Derek until Scott had driven off. 

“Wait right here,” Stiles told Derek. “Stay.” 

Stiles hurried into the house to grab his wallet and car keys. 

“I’m going to the diner to grab a bite to eat,” Stiles called out, and then left before his dad could argue in any way. 

Derek was waiting exactly where Stiles had left him. Stiles gave him a smile and beckoned him over to the jeep. Getting Derek into the passenger seat was surprisingly easy but Derek didn’t seem to get how the seatbelt worked. Stiles had to reach across Derek’s body to get the belt and then fasten it for him. Then Stiles took Derek’s hands and placed them firmly in Derek’s lap. 

“No touching,” Stiles said. “Cars are dangerous. No touching in cars.” 

Stiles drove them to a diner on the outskirts of town. It was the best place for curly fries in all of Beacon Hills. It also had the advantage of being nicely remote. 

“This is how humans do things,” Stiles said. “If a human likes someone, they’ll invite that person on a date. Then the humans talk. They get to know each other. There’s no giving of animals. Well, there’s a bit of an animal but it’s cooked and in bread. Animals aren’t good gifts, alive or dead. Unless they’re pretend animals made of cloth and stuff as toys. I’m human. We have to do things the human way.” 

Stiles kept up a steady flow of talk as he drove. He wasn’t sure how much Derek understood but he figured that talking a lot couldn’t hurt with helping Derek learn human interactions. Or relearn them. Cora had said that Derek had owned the Camaro, which meant that he must have operated as a human once. Hopefully, it would just take a bit of reminding to bring him back. 

Stiles parked the jeep and gave Derek another strict instruction to stay while he hurried in to get food. He was a little anxious about what Derek might be doing inside his jeep. He fidgeted nervously as he waited for his order but it turned out he needn’t have worried. Derek was waiting exactly as Stiles had left him, even down to the hands in his lap. 

Stiles handed Derek a bag of food. He half-expected Derek to tear into the bag or start eating the wrapped burger, but he watched Stiles carefully. Then he unwrapped the burger and began to eat. 

“Good,” Stiles said. “At this rate, you might progress to cutlery sometime this decade.” 

Derek didn’t say anything, so Stiles pressed on. 

“This is what humans do,” he said. “They go on dates. They have meals together. They watch movies. They go for walks. They hang out. They play games. Normal human interaction. And they talk. You need to talk.” 

Stiles ate his burger, looking at Derek expectantly. Derek frowned. He’d stopped eating and his fingers were gripping the burger hard enough that the bread was basically disintegrating. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before speaking, each word slow and requiring obvious effort. 

“I like you,” Derek said. 

“I’d worked that out,” said Stiles, “but that was an excellent effort on the talking. A whole sentence with pronouns and a verb and everything.” Derek made a frustrated noise. He looked annoyed. 

“I’m not making fun of you,” Stiles said. “That was very good. Try again.” 

Stiles ate some of his fries to give Derek more time to think about what to say. 

“Words are hard,” Derek managed. 

“Maybe, but they’re very useful as communication tools. Much better than snarling or growling to get your point across. Plus, I think your sister wants you to talk.” 

Derek made another growling noise. Stiles wondered if he were pushing too hard. He wasn’t sure what would help or what would make Derek upset. Stiles wondered if he should just start talking again to fill the silence. Then Derek spoke. 

“I want dates,” Derek said. 

“OK,” said Stiles. “I’ll have dates with you. But that’s all I’m agreeing to for now. They’ll be no mating or breaking into my bedroom or anything like that. I’ll help you with remembering how to act like a human. For now, that will have to be enough.” 

“Yes,” Derek said. 

“OK then. I’ll take you home now. This has been really good progress for one day. Whole sentences of progress. We’ll have you quoting Shakespeare in no time.” 

Stiles screwed up the burger wrappers and tossed them in the back seat to deal with later. He started the engine and set off towards the house in the woods, continuing the flow of words. 

“I’m going to give you homework. Before we see each other again, you need to watch TV. Find a show were people talk a lot and watch it. See how people interact with words. And you need to say something to Cora. It doesn’t have to be much but you have to form a complete sentence and say it to her.” 

Derek made a growling noise. 

“Don’t growl at me. If you don’t like something you need to actually say so. With words. I don’t speak wolf.” 

Derek was silent. Stiles drove on. There were loads of questions he wanted to ask but he was pretty sure Derek wasn’t ready to answer. So Stiles spent most of the journey talking about the value of words. 

“Without words we wouldn’t have poetry or songs or jokes or the Monty Python dead parrot sketch. There are people who are mute but they can still use words with writing or sign language.” 

He wasn’t sure if Derek was paying attention to any of this. He wasn’t sure either how much Derek could comprehend. He also wasn’t sure how to handle giving Derek lessons on being human. 

He parked the jeep in front of the house in the woods. Derek opened his door but then he got into a battle with the seatbelt. He tugged at it and got frustrated quickly. His fingers lengthened into claws and he looked like he was going to slash through the belt. 

“No!” Stiles said. “Damaging my jeep is a deal breaker.” 

Derek froze. He looked to Stiles, an expression that was almost fear in his eyes. Stiles reached over and pressed the button to release the belt. He made sure Derek saw. Then he clicked the belt back on. 

“Your turn,” Stiles said. Derek carefully pressed the button and belt clicked free. Derek disentangled himself from it. 

“Good,” Stiles said. 

Derek got out of the car. Cora had come out of the house. Derek now looked at her, clearly struggling with something difficult. 

“Hello, Cora,” Derek said. 

Cora gave a little cry of delight and looked like she might burst into tears. 

“Hello, Derek,” she said. She flung her arms around him but she looked over his shoulder and mouthed, “Thank you,” at Stiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The cat bit was the bit inspired by Must Be Bunnies. I like the idea of a feral Derek being told he's not allowed to bring dead things and seeing this as an instruction to find living ones.


	5. Chapter 5

“You’re going to get eaten,” said Scott over Skype later when Stiles admitted that he was now dating Derek. 

“He won’t eat me,” Stiles said. “He might eat you though. I think he’s jealous because I gave you the cat.”

“If he’s that upset, you can have the cat back. I think it’s possessed by evil.” 

“Still trying to scratch you?” 

“I’m afraid to open the carrier. It calmed down for a bit after I got home, but then it suddenly freaked out again, like it was terrified and angry. I was going to give it some water but if I open the carrier it might try to eat my face.” 

Stiles was able to laugh only because the cat was no longer his problem. 

“You owe me,” Scott said. “You owe me big time.” 

***

Derek showed up shortly after Stiles’ dad left for work. He managed to knock on the front door. Stiles opened the door for him and Derek shoved a straggly handful of flowers at Stiles. The flowers were clearly not from a florist. Stiles suspected Derek had grabbed them out of random gardens. 

“Hello, Derek,” Stiles said. 

Derek growled out, “Hello, Stiles.” 

Stiles moved aside and waved Derek inside. 

“Thank you for the flowers,” Stiles said. “I just need to find something to put them in. And find a way to explain this to my dad.” Stiles went to the kitchen and started hunting for a large glass to use as a vase. 

“I haven’t told my dad about you yet,” Stiles went on. “If I told him I was dating someone, he’d want to meet you and I don’t think either of you are ready for that.” 

Stiles filled a glass with water and put the flowers in it. Derek watched the whole thing carefully. 

“Flowers were a much better choice,” Stiles said. “They’re a much more human thing to give. Most humans would buy the flowers but still you definitely get points for the effort. Good work.” 

He couldn’t remember if he’d mentioned flowers but he didn’t thinks so. Maybe Derek had remembered that on his own. That had to be a good sign. Any hint of memory had to be good. 

“Do you want a drink?” Stiles asked. 

“No,” Derek said. It was abrupt and a little rude, but it was a word. Better than a growl. 

“OK. We can watch a movie. The advantage of a movie date is you’ve got a good excuse not to talk. In fact, if you’re going to a movie theatre then talking is strongly discouraged.” 

Stiles led Derek through to the living room and started hunting among his DVDs. 

“This is one of my all time favourite movies. The prequels are a pile of crap but the originals are awesome. I keep trying to get Scott to watch it but he refuses. I think he’s just not watching because he knows how much it’s annoying me.” 

Stiles found the Star Wars DVD and stuck it in the machine. Derek was still standing in the middle of the room. Stiles flopped onto the couch and jerked his head in invitation. Derek sat down and immediately curled his feet up and leaned against Stiles’ side. It was such an intimate position. Stiles tensed up instantly from the unaccustomed closeness. 

“Shoes off the furniture,” Stiles said. Derek moved to take off his shoes and that gave Stiles a moment of breathing space. As soon as Stiles started the film, Derek pressed up against him again. Stiles watched the familiar opening scroll up the screen and tried to relax. 

They sat in silence for most of the movie, except for the odd comment by Stiles. Derek didn’t make a sound or any attempt to further molest Stiles. But the end of the movie was rapidly approaching and then Stiles would have to think of something to say or do next. To his astonishment, Derek broke the silence for him. 

“My sister died,” Derek said. 

“What? Cora?” Stiles turned a little in his seat to look at Derek. Derek shook his head. 

“Another sister?” Stiles asked. 

Derek nodded. 

“Is that why you’re…” Stiles started and then tried and failed to think of a polite way to phrase it. Derek nodded. 

“It was easier to not be human,” Derek said. 

“And now you’re ready to try being human again?” 

“I don’t know.” 

There was a silence. On the TV, the credits were rolling up the screen but Stiles made no move to stop it. 

“I feel like I’d need a degree in therapy to properly have this conversation with you,” Stiles said. Derek said nothing. 

“Do you remember what being human was like?” Stiles asked. 

“It’s coming back,” Derek said, “but I have to think about it all. If I just act, that’s all wolf.” 

“It seems to be coming back quickly. When I first met you, I wouldn’t have believed you capable of saying this much in one go.” 

“It’s hard. Words are hard.” Derek was still speaking slowly, with strange pauses. It was like having a conversation with a foreigner who needed to stop and translate their thoughts mid-flow. 

“You just need practice,” Stiles said. “Come on. We’re going out.” 

Stiles had to remind Derek to put his shoes back on and Derek looked like he wanted to throw the shoes out the window as he fought with the laces. But when they got to the jeep, Derek managed the seat belt all by himself. Stiles wasn’t sure if he should be praising Derek like seeing a puppy perform a new trick. 

“So,” said Stiles, “no growling, no snarling, no glowing eyes, no violence, and definitely no dead animals. Got it?” Derek nodded. “We are going out for coffee. We will walk into the shop. You will order two coffees. You will pay – don’t worry, I’ll give you the money. Then we’ll walk out. Simple. Bare minimum human interaction. Think you can handle that?” 

Derek nodded, but he looked tense. Stiles wondered if he was pushing too fast, if this experiment would lead to someone getting mauled. But he was already approaching the parking lot so he decided that if something went wrong they could just leave. 

Stiles led the way to the nearest Starbucks. He fished some notes out of his wallet and handed them to Derek. There were only a few people about, none of whom were paying any attention to Derek and Stiles. Still, Derek looked at them anxiously. 

The coffee shop was pretty quiet too. There were a handful of customers scattered around the seats. A pair of men in business suits collected their drinks and headed out. Stiles held the door for them. Derek walked up to the counter. 

“Two coffees,” Derek said. 

“No problem,” said the girl behind the counter. “What kind?” 

Derek looked startled by the question. He looked towards Stiles in near-panic. 

“Latte?” the girl suggested. “Americano? Espresso? Cappuccino?” 

“Coffee,” Derek said again. He slammed the notes on the counter. 

“OK. What size?” 

Derek jabbed a hand towards one of the display cups. The girl processed the order as two tall, black Americanos. When she tried to give Derek his change, he stared in horror at the extended hand. 

“Tip,” he said. The girl dropped the change in the tip jar with a surprised smile. Her co-worker set the made up drinks on the counter. Derek grabbed one and was out of the door in about two seconds flat. 

“Thanks,” Stiles said. He took his coffee and followed Derek. 

He found Derek a little way down the street. He was staring at the coffee cup in his hand. 

“It was hard,” Derek said. 

“Maybe I should have picked somewhere with a less complicated menu.” 

Derek drank a mouthful of his coffee. 

“I don’t like this,” Derek said. 

“OK. I’ll drink it then. I’ve a feeling I’m going to need the caffeine.” 

Derek thrust the cup towards Stiles, who took it. He wasn’t going to waste the coffee, especially since Derek had tipped more than the cost of the coffee. He wondered if he should mention that but decided that Derek was frustrated enough by his experience. 

“You didn’t growl at anyone,” Stiles said, “so I count that as a win.” 

Derek turned to Stiles and growled, a low rumble in the back of his throat. 

“Wait,” said Stiles, “was that a joke?” 

For a fraction of a second, Derek gave a tiny flash of a smile. 

***

Stiles spent some time working out a list of practice activities for Derek. He had several text conversations with Cora about it. There were a few different things to think about. On one level, Derek needed to practice talking. He could do that with Stiles, but he also needed to get used to being around other people. On top of that, he needed reminders of human behaviour. 

Stiles thought that buying things was a good exercise. It required interaction but it followed a clear pattern. It was controlled and safe. Beyond that, he considered other activities they could try. It was probably a good idea to have a balance between ones that pushed Derek’s limits and ones that were more in his comfort zone. 

Derek showed up the next day while Stiles’ dad was out at work. Stiles prepared some food and they went for a picnic in the park. There were other people around but Derek wasn’t forced to talk to them. 

“When was the last time you had a picnic?” Stiles asked. 

“Before the fire,” Derek said. He said it like the answer pained him. Pieces clicked into place inside Stiles’ head. 

“The Hale fire,” he said. Derek nodded. 

A whole family had burned in that fire. Stiles’ dad had been involved in the investigation so Stiles knew some pieces about it. There had been two people who hadn’t been in the house at the time and another who’d made it out injured. Everyone else had died. 

“When you said your sister died,” Stiles asked, “were you talking about the fire?” 

Derek shook his head. For a while, Stiles thought that might be all the answer he was going to get. Then Derek spoke, the words slow and strained as ever. 

“Laura and I weren’t home. We were all that was left. There was Peter but he wasn’t well.” Derek paused. Stiles wondered if he should say something to comfort Derek or encourage him. This was clearly tough for him. 

“Peter was angry. His human side was suppressed but that made him violent. Laura tried to control him but he killed her. So I killed him. Then I had nothing.” 

Stiles couldn’t imagine what that must have been like. Derek had lost his family once and then he’d lost all he had left. 

“Being a wolf is easier,” Derek said. “Feelings are simpler. I don’t have to think. I was hiding.” 

“So how did you end up at that house with Cora and the others?” 

“Instinct. I wanted a pack. I found people who wanted to belong and gave them the bite. I wasn’t human enough to ask. Or explain.” 

“So there were a bunch of confused werewolves running around?” 

Derek nodded. 

“So what changed?” Stiles asked. This was by far the most vocal Derek had ever been and Stiles was burning with curiosity to hear the rest of the tale. He couldn’t let Derek stop now. 

“Cora came back,” Derek said. “She brought the pack together. They trapped me. Cora wanted me to come back.” 

Stiles suspected that Derek was leaving out a lot. He’d seen the chains in Derek’s room and all the claw marks. He remembered the comment about pants being progress. Derek was rubbing at his wrists as though remembering the chains there, as though they still pained him. Stiles wondered how long Cora had been fighting to get the sort of changes Stiles had seen in the past few days. 

“Do you want to come back?” Stiles asked. 

“I should.” 

Stiles wasn’t sure if that meant he should come back or that he should want to. It was a subtle difference. But Derek seemed exhausted by all this unaccustomed talking. He picked at his food in silence. Stiles had already got an astonishing amount out of him for one day so he should probably just be satisfied with that.


	6. Chapter 6

Stiles took Derek for meals at the diner. The first time, he just made Derek come inside while he ordered. Derek had looked like he was ready to bolt from the sight and sound of so many people, but he made it through. The second time, they ate their burgers in the restaurant. Derek spent the whole meal looking tense, almost scared. He was out of the diner the second he’d eaten the last bite. 

The third time, Stiles insisted that Derek order the food. Derek was getting much better at talking to Stiles but the idea of talking to other people still seemed horrifying to him. Stiles stayed close by while Derek ordered their food and handed over the money with the least words possible. Derek was giving everyone death glares but at least his eyes weren’t glowing. 

“We’re going to have to work on ‘please’,” Stiles said. Derek glared over his burger. 

“I’m serious,” Stiles said. “A little politeness goes a long way. Plus these guys probably don’t want to be here any more than you do. There’s no need to make their lives even more miserable by being rude.” 

Derek still said nothing. It was hard to believe that only a few days ago they’d managed a whole conversation about Derek’s history. Stiles was tempted to start charting Derek’s talkativeness against proximity to other people and whether they were outside. Derek definitely seemed more tense when they were inside. 

“I’m not saying you have to make small talk,” Stiles continued, “just throw in the occasional please or thank you. And stop looking like you’re plotting where to dump their bodies.” 

“Can I plot where to dump your body?” Derek asked. 

Stiles blinked. 

“I really hope this is you practicing the fine art of sarcasm and not actually plotting my murder,” Stiles said. 

“Cora would be upset if I killed someone.” 

“Yes, killing people is definitely a social faux pas.” 

Derek fell silent again but at least they’d managed a conversation, even if it was one that left Stiles almost as unnerved as after their first few encounters. Stiles was sure if fully vocalised death threats were better or worse than growling. 

As they got back in the jeep after the meal, Derek said quietly, “I’m sorry?” 

“Huh?” 

“I’m not going to kill you. I would never kill you.” 

“Or anyone else, I’d hope,” Stiles said. Derek didn’t reply. 

***

Stiles sat across the tale from his dad, aware that his dad was staring at him. Stiles tried to just get on with eating, talking about the lacrosse practice he’d had with Scott that afternoon, between mouthfuls. Eventually, he couldn’t take it anymore. 

“What?” Stiles asked. 

“Nothing else you want to tell me?” 

Stiles knew this technique. His dad knew something, or at least suspected something, but he wasn’t going to say exactly what. This way, Stiles might admit to something his dad didn’t know by mistaking what his dad was hinting at. Stiles had fallen for it before, admitting to cutting class when his dad had been talking about Stiles taking a drink from his whiskey. This time, Stiles met his dad’s eyes calmly. 

“What do you mean?” he asked. 

“I’ve been hearing rumours about you... hanging out with another guy.” 

“I hang out with Scott all the time.” 

“We both know I’m not talking about Scott.” 

Stiles hesitated. He picked at his dinner. He couldn’t use the word dating. If he said he was dating Derek, his dad would insist on meeting him and there was no way in hell that Derek was ready for that. His dad wasn’t ready for Derek either. 

“It’s not what you think,” Stiles said. 

“What is it then?” 

“This guy has got serious social anxiety issues. He’s been on his own for too long and now he’s trying to do more normal things, like buying a burger or having a conversation, without having a panic attack. I’m helping him out.” 

“Is that all?” 

“Yes.” 

“Because I wouldn’t mind,” his dad said, “if it was more than that. You’re a good kid, Stiles, and I want you to know that anyone you choose to date is...” 

“He’s not my boyfriend!” Stiles said quickly. He calmed his tone and added, “But I appreciate the sentiment.” 

It was good to know that his dad wouldn’t hesitate to love and support him, regardless of sexuality. But Stiles couldn’t be romantic with Derek. He just wasn’t quite human enough and it would be taking advantage to try anything. However attractive Derek might be, Stiles wouldn’t even let himself think about it. 

“Well,” his dad said, “it’s nice that you’re helping someone out.” 

***

After dinner, Stiles was exploring an elven forest over the internet when his phone went off. In the time it took to look away from the computer and answer it, his character got skewered by an orc sword, so he wasn’t in the best mood. 

“What?” he asked. 

“What did you do to my brother?” a voice asked. 

“Cora? What are you talking about?” 

“Derek! He’s shut himself in his room and it’s like he’s regressed several steps.” 

“I haven’t done anything. He was fine this morning.” 

They’d been on a walk through the preserve. Stiles had talked about his dad a lot and Derek had joined in with a few comments about his parents. It had almost counted as a conversation rather than a monologue. 

“Well he’s not fine now,” Cora said. “Can you come?” 

“I’ll be right there,” Stiles said. He only realised when he was halfway to his jeep that he hadn’t even hesitated. If Derek was in trouble, of course he was going to be there. 

He drove out to the preserve following the track through the woods to the big house. He half-expected Derek to come running out to him like the last time he’d come here, but there was just Cora, waiting anxiously. 

“He’s upstairs,” she said, as she let him in. Stiles caught glimpses of the rest of the pack through doorways as he walked upstairs and through to the attic where he’d slept the first time he’d been here. He hesitated at the door and then knocked. 

“Derek?” he called out. A growl answered. Stiles hesitated again. Did he really want to go in there with a growling werewolf? But Cora was right, this felt like regression, and Stiles really did want to know why. 

“Derek, I’m coming in.” 

Stiles pushed open the door and stepped into that attic room. For a moment, he didn’t see Derek, just a mound of sheets and blankets beside the bed. Then he saw two points of red shining from beneath the folds. Deep inside his blanket fort, Derek growled. 

“If you want me to leave, you’ll have to use words,” Stiles said. Derek growled again. What if he’d lost all human reason? What if he ripped Stiles to pieces? 

Stiles swallowed down on his fear. He crossed the room and sat down on the floor beside the blanket mound. The growl deepened in tone. 

“You’ve been doing so well,” Stiles said. “Why this now?” 

There was silence beneath the blankets, then Derek asked, “Do you even care?” 

“Of course I care.” 

There was another silence. At least Derek wasn’t growling now, but sitting in a room with a silent and angry werewolf was no less unnerving. 

“I heard you,” Derek said. “With your dad.” 

“Oh.” 

Stiles wondered what exactly Derek might have heard. He tried to recall the exact words he’d used. He’d certainly protested vehemently that Derek wasn’t his boyfriend. 

“I’m sorry you heard that,” Stiles said. It was possibly the weakest apology ever. Derek didn’t dignify it with so much as a growl. 

“I want to help you,” Stiles said. “I want you to be well.” 

“But that’s all,” Derek said. 

Stiles wasn’t sure what to say. He didn’t want to hurt Derek; it was painful to see him so forlorn. But he couldn’t lie. 

“I enjoy hanging out with you,” Stiles said. “More than I thought I would. And you are seriously attractive. But it can’t be more than that while you’re like this.” 

A blanket shifted. Stiles could see Derek’s face in the shadows of the fort. 

“If I wasn’t like this?” Derek asked. 

“I don’t know,” Stiles said. 

Derek growled again, eyes blazing red, “Don’t lie to me!” 

“I’m not lying,” Stiles said. The growled deepened. “I’m not! I’m not going to promise you anything but that doesn’t mean nothing could ever happen. Though you’re not particularly attractive when you’re growly and hiding in blankets.” 

The blanket mound moved slightly. 

“If you get better,” Stiles said, “and feel able to go to clubs, I guarantee that guys and girls and anyone else you like will be throwing themselves at you.” 

“I don’t want anyone else,” Derek said from beneath the blankets. 

“That’s just failure of imagination on your part.” 

A hand emerged from the blankets. It reached Stiles’ leg, brushing fingers against his knee. 

“I love you,” Derek said. 

Stiles sat frozen. His instinct was to respond, to let the words slip out easily like when his dad said that. But he didn’t really know Derek even after all the time they’d spent together. There was also the fact that Derek’s obsession with Stiles had started after one glance that night of the full moon. It wasn’t real. 

“Let’s just get you better,” Stiles said. “Then we’ll talk about this.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: there is a homophobic attack with slurs in this chapter.

In the days that followed, there was no mention of love or boyfriends. They fell back into old habits, going for walks or watching movies, buying small items in the shops or eating in the diner. Stiles was invited to dinner at the house in the woods. He sat there, surrounded by the rest of the pack, who talked and acted like ordinary humans, while Derek used his knife and fork, eating only the food served onto his plate. Derek didn’t contribute to the conversation, but he’d mastered the basics of table manners. 

After the dinner, Stiles had an argument with Cora about money. They stood by Stiles’ jeep and she said she’d found out Stiles had been giving Derek the money to buy items and paying for meals and stuff. Stiles tried to say it was fine, but Cora handed over a wad of notes and insisted that she’d give Derek some money in future so Derek would be able to pay for himself. Stiles knew his bank balance would appreciate it, so he didn’t protest too much. 

Then, one morning, Derek announced that he’d decided what he wanted to do today. Stiles let him take the lead and they walked through town to the library. 

“I need to practice words,” Derek said. “This is a safe way.” 

“OK,” Stiles said. He followed Derek inside. Derek tensed a little the instant he stepped through the door, but the library was quiet. There were a few old people milling the shelves, and a young mother herding her children over near the picture books, a woman working beside a pile of books on one of the tables. Everything had the quiet hush of a library and Stiles wondered why it hadn’t occurred to him to come here before. It was all calm and safe. 

Derek walked over to the counter, where a man looked up from inspecting returned books. 

“I’d like to get a card,” Derek said. The sentence flowed out smoothly. Stiles wondered how many times Derek had rehearsed those words in his head before coming here. 

“Alright,” the man said, “I’m going to need you to fill out this form and I’ll have to see a piece of ID.” 

Stiles wondered if the ID would be a problem, but Derek pulled out a wallet that held the promised money from Cora. Tucked into it was a driving license, with Derek’s picture looking out. Derek handed the license over and then picked up the pen. He stared at it with great concentration as he positioned it between his fingers. It was the same way he’d been when he’d first started speaking, having to put effort into every word. Now he frowned at the form, shaping each letter with enormous thought. 

The librarian said nothing as Derek took an ice age to write out the details in the form. He looked at Stiles with a strangely knowing expression and waited patiently for Derek to finish. The letters were clumsy and childish, but they were there and they were correct. When Derek finally finished, the man took the form with a smile. He entered a few details into his computer and, a few minutes later, handed out a plastic card with Derek’s name printed on it. 

“You can take out six books at a time,” the librarian said, “and keep them for four weeks, but there are late fees if you don’t return them on time.” 

Derek took the card and turned away. A step from the counter he stopped and turned back, saying deliberately, “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

It seemed that Stiles’ lessons about politeness had sunk in. The librarian smiled at Derek and then shot Stiles a little look. Derek walked over to the shelves and started looking at the books. Stiles was about to go join him but the librarian beckoned him over with a flick of a finger. Stiles moved closer to the desk and the librarian spoke in a whisper. Stiles knew that Derek would be able to hear anyway, but he went along with it. 

“We run an adult literacy group on Tuesday evenings,” the librarian said. “It’s a small group, very friendly, very supportive.” 

“We’ll bear that in mind,” Stiles said. “Would it involve much talking?” 

“A little. We encourage people to read aloud from the books but it’s all very informal.” 

That might actually work for Derek. It would involve interacting with people but he would have something in front of him to read, rather than having to make conversation. 

“I’ll talk to Derek about it.” 

“We also run coffee mornings on the second Thursday of each month. We get people in to give little talks. Authors, local historians, all sorts. This month, we’ve got someone in talking about his experiences mountain climbing. Derek could just sit and listen if that’s what he prefers.” 

Stiles seriously wished he’d come here earlier. It would have helped him with thinking up ways to occupy Derek. He smiled. 

“We’ll think about it.” 

“I’m Don by the way.” 

“Stiles.” 

Don said absolutely nothing about Stiles’ name. He didn’t seem to react at all to the strangeness of it. They just shook hands across the counter. Stiles gave Don another smile and then went over to where Derek was browsing books. He was clutching one tightly. He glared at Stiles for a moment and then turned back to the books. 

“I’m not coming to some adult class like I’m stupid,” Derek said, his voice a low snarl. 

“It’s not about being stu...” Stiles started. Derek silenced him with another glare. 

“Fine,” Stiles said, holding his hands in surrender. “But what about the coffee morning?” 

Derek gave a little, low growling noise and muttered, “Fine.” 

He grabbed a book off the shelf without even looking at what it was and he walked back over to the counter and Don. Don took the books with a smile and swiped Derek’s new library card. Derek glowered at him through the whole transaction, but he managed to growl out a, “Thank you,” when he got the books and card back. Stiles gave Don a smile and a shrug, then they headed out and back to the jeep. 

***

Two days after the library visit, Stiles decided they were going to try the mall on a Saturday afternoon. It would be busy and Derek would probably hate every moment of it, but it would get him used to being around lots of people. 

“You don’t have to like it,” Stiles said as they walked from the jeep, “and you don’t have to stay in there long. I won’t even make you talk to anyone or buy anything. We’ll just go in and walk around for half an hour and then we can go out to the preserve.” 

Derek nodded. He looked tense, like he was preparing to go into battle. Stiles put a hand on his arm. 

“I’m right here,” Stiles said. “It’ll be alright. Just remember, you’re a lot scarier than all those people put together. But no growling.”

Derek nodded again. It probably wasn’t a good sign that he’d stopped using words. Stiles wouldn’t have been surprised if Derek had a full-blown panic attack inside the mall, so he made up his mind to get Derek out of there the second it looked like he was having difficulties. And he kept his hand tucked around Derek’s arm, a reminder that he wasn’t going through this alone. 

They walked into the mall and moved through the flow of people in front of the shops. Stiles didn’t see the need to go inside any of the shops, so he just walked a lap in front of them, eyes meandering over the window displays. 

“See?” he said quietly. “This isn’t too bad, is it? No one’s looking at us. They’re all off in their own little worlds. It’s like we’re all alone.” 

He kept up the flow of chatter as they went to the escalators and headed up. They stood there and Stiles made sure to keep his hand on Derek’s arm. Derek seemed surprisingly calm. There was obvious tension in the way his jaw was clenched, but it was better than he could have feared. At the top of the escalators, Stiles started them on a loop around the upper mall. There were some food stands on this level, out in front of the shops. 

“Do you want me to buy us some cookies?” Stiles asked. “No one expects you to talk if your mouth is full of cookies.” 

“No,” Derek said. It was sharp and abrupt, but it was still vocalisation. 

“OK then. You’re doing really well.” 

“Patronising,” Derek muttered. 

Stiles couldn’t resist. He put on his most patronising tone and said, “Wow! Four whole syllables in one word!” 

Derek glared at him and Stiles gave a little laugh. Derek managed a little quirking upwards of the corners of his mouth. It was clearly forced, but it was better than nothing. Derek started to relax just a tiny fraction. 

Stiles noticed the change before he realised what caused it. Derek stiffened, all the tension flooding back into him. The smile had vanished like it had never been. His steps faltered and he froze there in the middle of the mall. Stiles stopped walking, turning to look at Derek. 

“What is it?” Stiles asked. 

Then he heard the voice, quiet but quickly growing louder. 

“Did you hear me?” it asked. “Good. I’m sick of you fucking fags parading around like you own the place.” 

A group of four guys were standing near one of the coffee stands outside a gym. They were probably around Derek’s age and each one of them had muscles bulging. They were looking at Derek and Stiles like they were dog muck on the bottom of a favourite shoe. If Derek weren’t here, Stiles would be afraid that they’d pummel him into a paste, but right now he had bigger priorities. 

Stiles tugged at Derek’s arm. Derek was frozen apart from a faint trembling of tension. 

“Come on,” he said quietly. “Just get out of here. We don’t have to listen to this.” 

“You know you perverts are going to hell,” said one of the guy’s friends. 

Stiles tugged again, “Come on.” 

Derek started walking. There was a low growling noise, barely audible, coming from his throat. Stiles didn’t think anyone else was close enough to hear, but he hurried Derek away before it got worse. The guys followed. No matter how big and well-muscled they were, they weren’t the reason for Stiles’ racing heart. He was terrified of what might happen if Derek lost control here. What if someone saw Derek go all glowy-eyed and growly? 

The next taunt was addressed at Stiles: “You like sucking a big guy’s cock, you little twink? Maybe I should get you to suck mine. Get you down on your knees and fuck your face? Is that how you like it, fag? I could make you choke on it. That’s how you should go, choking on a fat cock.” 

Derek’s growl was slightly louder now. 

“It’s fine,” Stiles muttered. “It’s just words. Ignore them. It doesn’t matter what they say.” 

Stiles kept his eyes on the escalators, on their escape route. They were only about twenty metres away now. Stiles dodged a cluster of shoppers. He wished he could just break into a run, but he kept moving calmly. People had stopped to stare as the taunts came from the little group of guys. No one said anything. Stiles wished that one of them, just one, would tell the guys to shut up, but people were just watching like this was a piece of performance art. Stiles hated the lot of them right then. 

One of the guys shoved in front of them just before they could reach the escalators. 

“Where the hell do you think you’re going, fag?” the guy asked. 

“We don’t want any trouble,” Stiles said, loudly enough that the onlookers would be able to hear. “You said you didn’t want us here, so we’re trying to leave and now you’re blocking our exit. Maybe you should make up your mind about what you want.” 

“Maybe you should shut your fag mouth or I’ll shut it for you.” 

The guy shoved Stiles in the chest, hard enough that he tripped backwards, caught a foot on something, and fell. He landed hard on his ass and just had time to yell, “Derek, no!” as Derek punched the asshole in the face. It was one hell of a punch. Stiles swore the guy’s feet left the ground and then he fell backwards, sprawling, holding a hand to his face like he expected half of it to be gone. 

The three other assholes leapt at Derek, attacking all at once. Derek was lost in a whirl of fists and kicks, his limbs tearing through the assholes like they were nothing. 

“Derek, stop,” Stiles said. He got to his feet and tried to break into the whirlwind of pain, to get hold of Derek and get him to stop. He could see the gleam of red in his eyes. 

As Stiles tried to break up the fight, one of the assholes caught him with a punch round the side of the face. Stiles stumbled back, dazed for a moment, as Derek gave an animalistic growl. 

In the next moment, mall security were there, yelling and trying to get calm. Stiles saw them, saw the weapons on their belts. Terror filled him. 

“Derek, if you love me, stop moving right now,” he said, voice quiet. But werewolf hearing picked up the words anyway and Derek froze. He uncurled his fist from the front of one guy’s shirt. That guy slumped down onto his knees, blood streaming from his nose, eyes filled with tears. One of those eyes was already swelling shut. 

The four assholes were bruised and blooded on the floor around Derek, who didn’t have a mark on him. The mall security guys looked at the scene and knew exactly where to focus their attention. Derek stood there, in front of the barrels of two guns, while a third guy got out a pair of handcuffs. 

“Derek, I need you to cooperate,” Stiles said. “This is more important than anything I’ve ever asked before. Just do what they say. Do _everything_ they say. Please.” 

Derek looked across at Stiles, meeting his eyes. He let himself get taken. 

***

Sitting in the mall security office, Stiles’ terror hadn’t diminished in the slightest. His face was throbbing with pain now, but all he could do was stare at Derek, who was cuffed in front of a security guy’s desk. He looked more tense than Stiles had ever seen him. 

Three of the four assholes were gone, taken away for medical attention. The fourth sat in the security office with them, clutching tissues under his nose to catch the blood. Much of his exposed skin showed growing bruises. They were all in the same office, but sitting in different places, with Stiles against one wall, Asshole against the other, and Derek between them at the desk. Derek was the only one who’d been put in cuffs but Stiles didn’t dare move from his seat in case the security guys brought the weapons out again. 

The mall security guys had called for actual police and Stiles sat there, really, really hoping that the person who responded to the call wouldn’t be the sheriff. He knew that any deputy would tell his dad about this, but he really didn’t want his dad to see him like this, with a black eye and the guy he’d been with in handcuffs for injuring four people. Of course, it seemed like the universe hated him because the door opened and the sheriff walked in. The sheriff looked Stiles up and down briefly, but didn’t give any indication of recognition. Deputy Parrish was a few steps behind, also looking at Stiles like he was a complete stranger. The sheriff turned to the head security guy. 

“What happened?” he asked. 

“They were fighting in the upper mall. Three other guys are hospitalised by this maniac,” he jabbed a finger towards Derek. 

“It wasn’t Derek’s fault,” Stiles said. His dad gave him a glare that was worthy of Derek. 

“You’ll get your turn,” he said. He turned to the asshole with the bloody nose. “What do you think happened?” 

“We were getting a drink after a gym session, minding our own business, when these two came by, all lovey-dovey. They saw it made us uncomfortable and they started practically making out just to provoke us and one of my friends said something. It was maybe a bit rude, but it was just words, you know. Then this guy,” he jabbed a finger towards Derek, “went nuts and just attacked us. He was like a wild animal.” 

“That is complete bulls...” Stiles started. 

“Quiet!” his dad snapped. He turned back to the asshole. 

“So one of your friends made a comment and this man attacked you?” 

“Yeah. I mean, we tried to fight back but he was out of control.” 

Stiles could see Derek’s hands, clenched into fists behind his back where they were held by the cuffs. There were drips of red seeping through his fingers. He must be cutting into his skin with his nails. His claws. Derek was practically trembling from tension. 

Stiles’ dad moved to stand beside the desk so he could look Derek in the face. 

“Well,” he said, “what’s your side of the story?” 

There was silence. Stiles’ dad waited, arms folded, face dark. 

“Words, Derek,” Stiles muttered, quiet enough that he hoped no one else would hear. “You have to say something.” 

“They hurt Stiles,” Derek said. 

Stiles’ dad glanced back at Stiles. Stiles felt the pain in his cheek burning hotter than ever. 

“What did they do?” Stiles’ dad asked Derek. 

When Derek spoke, it was like back at the start of this, each word carefully picked and spoken with effort. Stiles wondered how hard Derek was trying not to turn back into an animal. 

“They were... saying mean things. Stiles said to ignore them. We started to leave but they followed. One of them threatened to rape Stiles.” 

“That’s an absolute lie!” protested Asshole. 

“You’ve had your turn,” Stiles’ dad said, then looked back at Derek. “Continue.” 

“We were trying to get to the escalators, to get out, and one of them shoved Stiles so hard he fell over. I hit him. Then the rest attacked me.” 

“He hit first, he started it,” Asshole continued. “Maybe there was a playful shove, but he’s the one that started punching. He should be arrested. He should be locked up in a psycho ward.” 

“I’ve told you to be quiet,” Stiles’ dad said. He finally turned to Stiles. “Well, how do you think this happened?” 

“It’s like Derek said. These assholes started insulting us and making comments and saying they should make me suck their dicks and stuff like that. We were trying to ignore them. Then one of them shoved me and that’s when all hell broke loose, but they definitely started it. All Derek did was protect me.” 

He needed his dad to understand that. He needed his dad to believe him. His dad turned back to the security guy. 

“You got cameras?” he asked. 

“Of course.” The security guy tapped something into the computer on his desk and Stiles’ dad walked round to look over his shoulder. From his seat by the wall, Stiles couldn’t see the footage but he didn’t need to. He watched his dad’s face, seeing those lips pressed tightly and angrily together. It only lasted a few minutes. He turned to Parrish. 

“Take this young man down to the car and read him his rights,” he said, gesturing towards Asshole, “and get on the radio to send someone over to the hospital to pick up his buddies once they’ve received treatment. We’re also going to need to take statements from the people in the mall who can confirm what was said before the fight broke out.” 

“You can’t do this,” Asshole protested, as Parrish took hold of him by the arm. “He’s the one who beat us up!” 

“You’re not being arrested for fighting him. You’re being arrested for what came before that, for assaulting a minor and threatening him with rape.” 

Parrish dragged Asshole out, who was protesting the whole while that this was completely unacceptable and that he hadn’t done anything wrong. Stiles’ dad turned back to Derek, who still looked terrified and tense. Stiles wanted to hurry to his side and comfort him. 

“Now to figure out what to do with you,” the sheriff said. Stiles’ terror hadn’t diminished. Even though Derek could argue a self-defence case, he still might get arrested for all that violence. Being put in a jail would kill him. Even if he was just locked up for a few hours, it could send him back to how he’d been weeks ago. 

“You can’t arrest him,” Stiles said. “He was protecting me. And himself. The other guys all attacked him at once, he just defended himself. Please. You can’t arrest him.” 

“Self-defence is a fine thing,” the sheriff said, “but it doesn’t explain that footage. What are you taking?” 

Derek looked at him in silent confusion, then turned towards Stiles, eyes pleading. 

“He’s asking about drugs,” Stiles said. 

“Yes,” Stiles’ dad said. “I’m asking you what drugs you’ve been taking.” 

“I don’t take drugs,” Derek said. He didn’t sound growly and angry. He sounded scared. He was probably scared what would happen if someone figure out he was a werewolf. He looked back towards Stiles. Stiles took that as his cue to stand up. No one argued or told him to sit down as he went across the room to Derek and put a hand on his shoulder. 

“I’m going to take you down to the station and get a blood test to prove that because people don’t usually fight like that without some sort of chemical boost.” 

Stiles wasn’t sure if a blood test would show anomalies because of Derek being a werewolf. In any case, Derek turned round and looked pleadingly at Stiles. 

“If you’re going to do medical tests, I should probably call his sister,” Stiles said. 

“No!” Derek snapped. 

“Cora can help,” Stiles said. 

“She can’t know I’m in trouble.” 

Stiles thought of those chains in the bedroom. Derek seemed genuinely afraid of what his sister would do if she found out he’d been fighting. He didn’t want to be locked up, not by the police and not by Cora. Stiles turned back to his dad. 

“He’s not on drugs, I swear, and you can’t arrest him. He didn’t do anything wrong. Those other people started the fight and he was just looking out for me. You can’t lock him up.” 

Stiles looked at his dad, hoping to impress on him the importance of this, hoping his eyes would show how much this mattered. Getting locked up would destroy Derek. His dad looked between the two of them and sighed. He dragged a hand up his face and over his head. 

“I’ll need you both to come down to the station to give statements,” he said. 

“I can drive us in the jeep,” Stiles said. “Derek shouldn’t be in the same car as that asshole.” 

“Alright. But if you don’t come, I will put out arrest warrants for the both of you.” 

Stiles nodded. 

At a gesture from the sheriff, the security guy undid the cuffs around Derek’s wrists. Stiles took Derek out of there while his dad was still talking to the security guy about transferring the security camera footage and getting statements from staff. Derek walked silently beside Stiles, pressed close against his side, until they reached the jeep. 

“I’m sorry,” Derek said, once they were in the jeep. 

“They were assholes,” Stiles said. “They deserved it. But you have to be careful. If my dad weren’t the sheriff, you’d probably have been arrested by now. You can’t attack people like that. Even if they are assholes.” 

“They hurt you.” 

“I got a bit of a shove. You were close to murdering them. Self-defence allows for the use of reasonable force. None of what you did was reasonable.” 

“They hurt you.” 

“So what? I don’t want to see you arrested because someone was mean to me. Don’t hurt people. It doesn’t matter what they say. It doesn’t matter if they shove me or act like assholes. You don’t hurt people unless one of us is actually about to get seriously injured. I’m not worth getting locked up over.” 

“But they hurt you.” 

“And you think you getting sent to prison because of me wouldn’t hurt me?” Stiles demanded. Derek looked at him. Then looked away.


	8. Chapter 8

The conversation at the sheriff’s station was exactly as awkward as Stiles feared it would be. Stiles was sitting in one of the small interview rooms, aware that Derek was probably listening to every word. He tried to remember every little detail of the encounter at the mall. He tried to remember all the insults that had preceded the violence, and then did his best to describe the fight in a way that made Derek sound like his stalwart protector rather than a violent semi-feral werewolf. 

His dad took the formal statement, prompting occasionally but mostly letting Stiles speak. Stiles twitched and fidgeted his way through his statement, wondering how Derek was getting on. Was he having to give his statement now? Or would he have his turn after Stiles so Stiles could go to him and help him get through it? Stiles tapped his fingers nervously against the table as his dad finished up. The small interview room seemed cold and heartless, draining the life out of him even as he spoke. 

“Can I go to Derek?” Stiles asked. 

His dad looked at him with narrowed eyes, asking, “It’s really that important to you to be with him?” 

“He’s not good with strangers,” Stiles said, “and he’s not good at using words to communicate. It would help if I were there.” 

“This is the guy you say you’ve been helping?” 

“Yeah.” 

His dad was still looking at him in that concerned and serious way. Stiles didn’t like it in the slightest. It was the look of his dad figuring out how to say something he knew Stiles didn’t want to hear. 

“I’m not sure you should do that anymore,” he said. 

“Why not?” Stiles asked. 

“I’m not sure it’s safe.” 

“Dad, in the car over here, I tried to explain why he shouldn’t have been so violent with those guys. Do you know what he said? ‘But they hurt you’. He said that over and over. He only hurt those assholes because they hurt me. I am probably the safest person in the world when I’m with Derek.” It was only as he said it that Stiles realised every word was true. There had been times when he’d been afraid around Derek but, since their very first encounter, Derek had been trying to keep him safe. 

“A person with anger issues like that is not a safe person to be around.” 

“Mostly he just gets angry that he can’t express himself properly. He thinks and feels all the complicated stuff that everyone else in the world has to deal with, but he doesn’t have the words to tell people. I’m helping him to find the words.” 

“Look, Stiles, I know you mean well but it seems to me he needs a professional.” 

“What he needs is practice interacting with people, relearning what’s normal. He’s getting better.” 

“Stiles, you can’t look after him forever. What happens when school starts again?” 

“I’ll figure something out. I can still hang out with him at weekends. And there’s this coffee morning thing at the library we’ve found. He can go to that. The librarian was really nice about Derek being there. And he’s been talking more to his sister. He’s been getting better but if you lock him up over this fight it could undo everything and I won’t let you do that.” 

Stiles realised his voice had been rising through all that until he was nearly yelling. He took a moment to calm back down and regain a reasonable volume. 

“Dad, I am perfectly safe around Derek and I’ve talked to him about why the fight today wasn’t acceptable. I’ll make sure he understands it can’t happen again. Just let me handle this.” 

“I just don’t understand why this is your job all of a sudden,” his dad said. 

“Because I told Derek I’d help him,” Stiles said. “I don’t break my promises.” 

His dad fixed him with a stare and said, “Except when you promise to stay out of trouble at school.” 

“I can’t take all the blame for that. My chemistry teacher hates me.” 

“I wonder why.” 

“Please can I go to Derek now?” Stiles asked. His dad went over to the door and opened it. He waved Stiles through. It turned out Derek was in the interview room next door. He was already looking towards the door as Stiles walked in. Parrish was sitting across from him with notes and an audio recorder. 

“Have you got what you need?” Stiles’ dad asked Parrish. 

“I think so,” Parrish said. “It took some time but we’ve got a statement.” 

Stiles wondered if Derek had been distracted by eavesdropping on Stiles or if he’d just struggled with words. This was neither the time nor place to ask though, so he went over to Derek. He put a hand on Derek’s arm. Derek seemed to do better with physical contact. 

“Are you alright?” he asked. Derek nodded. 

Stiles turned to his dad, “Can we go?” 

His dad sighed, “Yeah. Get out of here. Neither of you are being charged. But, Stiles, I expect you home for dinner tonight and we’ve got a lot to discuss.” 

Stiles nodded. He wasn’t looking forward to that conversation; he didn’t think his dad had accepted much he’d said here. For now though, he settled for putting a hand on Derek’s arm and leading him out of the station, over to where he’d parked his jeep outside. They got inside, but Stiles didn’t start the engine right away. 

“How did it go with Parrish?” Stiles asked. 

“He asked what happened at the mall. I told him. He wrote it all down.” 

“And that’s all.” 

Derek nodded. Stiles decided not to push any further and so he started up the engine. It was only when they were pulling out onto the street and Stiles had to pay attention to traffic that Derek spoke again. 

“I heard some of what you said to your dad,” Derek said. 

“I figured. You really need to work on the whole eavesdropping thing.” 

“I would never hurt you. I would never let anyone else hurt you.” 

“I know that. I trust you.” There wasn’t a hint of doubt in Stiles’ voice now. Whatever fears he might once have had were gone. 

“I love you,” Derek said. Stiles’ hands tightened around the steering wheel. He wanted to call bullshit on that statement. Derek didn’t really love him. Whatever attraction he’d felt at the beginning had been purely physical because they hadn’t known each other. But Stiles didn’t feel equipped to have this argument with Derek now, so he said nothing. 

“I know you don’t love me back,” Derek said, “but you need to know that I love you. In case your dad doesn’t let you see me again.” 

“I will see you again,” Stiles said. “I promise.” 

Derek stared out of the window at the road. He didn’t say anything. 

When they reached the house in the woods, Cora came out to great them. She sniffed the air slightly as they got out of the jeep and her expression instantly changed to one of concerned. Her eyes locked on the bruising around Stiles’ eye. 

“What happened?” she asked. 

Derek seemed to shrink into himself. His shoulders slumped. He didn’t look at her. He looked like he was trying to make himself as small as possible, eyes dropping to the ground so he didn’t have to meet her gaze. Stiles knew Derek hadn’t wanted him to call Cora, but she obviously had to be told something because her senses had let her know something was up already. Maybe there was a bit of blood on Derek still from the fight. 

“Before I say anything,” Stiles said, “you need to know that he’s not in trouble.” 

“That is not a sentence that leads to anything good,” she said. Derek looked like he wanted to hide behind the jeep. 

“We went to the mall to get Derek used to being somewhere with lots of people only it turns out that some of those people were bigoted jerks. They started making all sorts of horrible comments. We started to leave to just, you know, not have to deal with them. Then one of them shoved me and Derek, well, defended my honour.” 

Cora’s expression was serious, almost frightened. She looked at Derek and asked, “Did you shift?” 

Derek shook his head. 

“Did anyone get hurt?” she asked. 

Derek was still staring at the ground. He turned away from her, one shoulder rising in a slight shrug that wasn’t really an answer. 

“Nothing serious,” Stiles said. That didn’t improve Cora’s expression at all, so he pressed on, “And the other guys were the ones who got arrested because they threatened to rape me. I seriously doubt the cops will get anything to stick, they’ll probably be let off with a warning, but maybe this will scare some manners into them. The cops agree that what Derek did was self-defence because the other guys started it, but he just defended himself, and me, a little too enthusiastically.” 

Derek hadn’t moved. He hadn’t said anything. 

“We’ve had a conversation about why he shouldn’t do anything like that again,” Stiles said, “unless I’m in real trouble. The world is full of assholes but unfortunately we’re not allowed to punch them.” 

“We should be,” Derek muttered. 

“Maybe, but we’re not. You understand that, right?” 

Derek nodded. Stiles turned back to Cora. 

“I think he’s been through enough today,” he said. 

Cora still looked worried. Stiles knew that she loved her brother and he hoped she would see that a punishment wouldn’t be the best idea right now. He thought she got that. She walked over to Derek and put a hand on his arm. 

“We’ve got to be careful,” she said. “We can’t afford for the hunters to think we’re a threat. You get that, right?” 

Derek nodded. Stiles heard her use the word hunter and instantly thought of Chris Argent and how he’d dropped hints about strange and dangerous creatures out in the woods. 

***

It was like someone had read his mind. When Stiles pulled up in front of his house, there was another car waiting. Chris Argent got out of it while Stiles climbed from the jeep. 

“Not got any deer here today,” Stiles said. 

“I actually wanted to talk to you about the Hales,” Argent said. 

Stiles considered denials. He could claim he didn’t know the Hales or that he didn’t have a clue what Argent was on about, but he didn’t think that would be believed for an instant. So he just stood there and looked Argent in the eye. 

“What about them?” he asked. 

“You need to know that they’re dangerous,” Argent said. 

“Nope,” Stiles said. 

“Nope?” 

“They’re not dangerous.” 

“As I understand it, three people are in hospital.” 

“Nope, right now, they’ve probably been patched up and they’ll be at the sheriff’s station being asked difficult questions about the fact they threatened to fuck my face until I choked to death and then physically assaulted me. I think you’re warning me about the wrong people.” 

“Those men assaulted you?” There was a moment of doubt on Argent’s face. 

“Derek Hale was questioned by the sheriff’s department and then let off without so much as an official warning because his actions were clearly in defence of himself and a minor.” 

Stiles didn’t like admitting that he’d been threatened and humiliated in front of a mall full of people. He would probably have nightmares about the gawking faces of those people who’d just watched it happen. But if admitting his humiliation, even emphasising it, was the best way to paint Derek as a hero rather than a monster, that was what he had to do. 

“The Hales aren’t like other people,” Argent said. 

Stiles gave a snort, “The phrase ‘well, duh’ springs to mind.” 

“Don’t think that you’re safe just because he likes you now. We’re pretty sure Derek killed his sister and uncle, his own family. He could kill you too.” 

“His uncle killed his sister,” Stiles said. The words left his mouth before he had time to think about it. He caught the look of surprise on Argent’s face. He wasn’t sure if Argent was surprised that Stiles knew the story, or by what Derek’s version of the story was. 

“Stiles, you seem like... a nice kid,” Argent said in a tone that sounded almost as forced as Derek’s still was sometimes. “You shouldn’t be involved with creatures like that.” 

“I’m struggling to see why it’s any of your business.” 

Stiles folded his arms across his chest, staring at Argent. Argent gave a sigh. 

“Well I see that I’m wasting my time here. Good luck, Stiles. If you change your mind and decide you need help getting rid of them, you’ve got my number.” 

Stiles watched as Argent drove off, waiting until he was sure he was gone before heading inside. 

***

Stiles and his dad had dinner together for the first time in several days. The first part of the meal was mostly in silence except for comments about the food and Stiles anxiously tapping his foot under the table. 

“So,” his dad said at last, the syllable drawn out like the notes of doom, “how did you meet Derek?” 

“He’s Cora’s brother. She’s the one who brought me home after I got lost on the preserve.” 

“And she introduced you to Derek?” 

“She’s been trying to get him to interact with the world more,” Stiles said. “She wanted him to talk to new people.” 

Both of those were technically true. If his dad didn’t notice that he hadn’t actually answered the question then it wasn’t really lying. Stiles told himself this and tried not to feel guilty. His dad definitely wouldn’t let him see Derek again if he knew the truth about werewolves and full moons. 

“And you took it on yourself to fix him?” 

“He bonded with me. He likes me. He talked to me in a way Cora said he hadn’t talked to anyone since... since his sister died. I still think he probably needs a professional therapist to deal with the fear and the fact his uncle murdered his sister, but if I’m in a position to help him, surely I have a duty to help.” 

“Wait. Back up. Did you just say his uncle murdered his sister?” 

“Yeah. That’s what Derek said.” 

“His uncle disappeared from a long term care facility a few months ago. If he committed a crime, I need to bring Derek in to give a statement.” 

“I really don’t think he’d be able to give you anything you could use,” Stiles said. “From what he said, his sister’s death was what made him like this. He shut himself off from the world. It broke him. He was barely able to talk about it even with me.” 

“Even so, we can’t ignore a possible crime.” 

“No judge would accept anything Derek has to say right now, not with the state he’s in. You’d never get a warrant to go after Peter.” Stiles decided not to mention that Derek had also admitted to killing his uncle. He could let his dad believe that Peter had just skipped town. 

“Just let him be,” Stiles said. “Let me help him. Maybe when he’s better he can tell you about his sister, but he’s in no condition to have that conversation right now.” 

His dad looked at him. He sighed. He dragged a hand across his face. 

“You’re going to keep hanging out with him no matter what I say, aren’t you?” he asked. 

“Of course,” Stiles answered.


	9. Chapter 9

Stiles drove over to the big house the next day. It was the curly-haired guy who first came out to greet him. 

“We weren’t sure if you were coming back,” he said. “Derek shut himself in his room and made a nest again yesterday.” 

“Of course I came back,” Stiles said. “I promised him I would.” 

The words had barely left his mouth when the door to the big house opened again and Stiles found himself wrapped in strong, werewolf arms. Derek held him like he didn’t intend to let go, nuzzling at Stiles’ neck. 

“Hi, Derek,” Stiles said. 

Derek broke off his nuzzling and raised his head just long enough to say, “Hi, Stiles,” then went back to sniffing at Stiles, rubbing his face into the crook of Stiles’ neck. 

“You’ve really got to shave more often if you’re gonna keep doing this,” Stiles said, standing there awkwardly, unsure of how to respond. The curly-haired guy just laughed at them. Derek snuffled at the skin under Stiles’ ear. Stiles was caught in that space between being flattered and being weirded out. It was a common state of being when he was around Derek. 

“You came back,” Derek said. 

“Well duh. I told you I would.” 

“Your dad let you?” 

“My dad knows me well enough to know a losing battle when he sees one. Are you planning on letting go of me any time soon?” 

Derek reluctantly stepped back. At some point, Stiles was going to have to talk about personal space with Derek, but he decided now wasn’t the time. Now, Derek reached his fingers up to Stiles’ cheek. They brushed against the bruise that still heated the side of his face. Like with the scratch on the night they’d met, the touch of Derek’s fingers seemed to suck the pain out of him. 

“Thanks,” Stiles said. Derek gave him one of his brilliant smiles. 

“Now,” Stiles went on, “I don’t know about you, but I think I’ve had enough of other people for a while. What do you say?” 

Derek nodded. 

They went for a walk in the preserve. For about the first half hour, Derek didn't say anything, just walked along beside Stiles except where the undergrowth got too dense, and then he walked in front, carefully holding branches aside so they didn’t hit Stiles in the face. It would have been sweet if it weren’t for the fact it felt like about three steps backwards. Derek had been doing so well at talking. 

“I’m sorry,” Stiles said. 

Derek stopped walking and turned to face him, eyebrows coming together in confusion. 

“I screwed up,” Stiles said. “With the mall. I thought it would be a good idea and it just made a mess.” 

“No,” Derek said. “That’s... it... you... No... Just no.” 

Derek started and stopped several times, obviously struggling to pull the words together in a way that expressed what he wanted. So he settled for glaring at Stiles and repeating, “No.” 

“No?” Stiles said. “As in, ‘no it’s not your fault, Stiles’?” 

“Yes... No... I mean...” Derek gave a frustrated noise. He grabbed a fallen hunk of wood and hurled it at the nearest tree with such force that the thing practically exploded in splinters. Stiles hadn’t known that was even possible. 

It was obvious that Derek had something to say but he couldn’t get it out right. That frustration at his inability to communicate was probably tearing him up inside. So Stiles just put a hand on Derek’s arm. 

“It’s OK,” he said. “There’s no rush. There’s just you and me here and we’ve got time. Just pause. Think about what it is you want to say. I can wait.” 

So he did wait, trying very hard not to fidget as he did so. He watched Derek close his eyes and clearly think. It took nearly five minutes of Stiles fighting his impatience and squashing down the urge to say something of his own. Then Derek took a deep breath and looked back at him. 

“I need to cope with people. I don’t think I’ll ever like it. I didn’t like it before. But I have to be able to walk through a crowd without losing it. You were right. It was a good lesson. I just need to not go feral around humans.” 

Stiles waited until he was sure Derek had finished. 

“They were jerks,” Stiles said. “And they did start it. But yes, avoiding acts of violence that get you arrested would be good in future.” 

They continued their walk through the woods. It didn’t take long for the silence to start to get to Stiles. 

“Tell me something about yourself,” Stiles said. 

Derek was instantly tense. 

“What?” he asked. 

“I dunno. Anything. Little things. What’s your favourite colour?” 

“Silver.” 

“Silver. OK. Cool. Favourite Food?” 

“Steak.” 

“Are you just going to stick to one-word answers?” 

“Yes.” 

Stiles rolled his eyes. Derek gave one of those tiny quirks of his mouth that was gone too quickly to see if it was really a smile. 

“Favourite flavour of ice cream?” Stiles asked. 

“Vanilla.” 

“Seriously? Vanilla? Thousands of flavours to choose from and you go with vanilla?” 

“Proper vanilla,” Derek said. “With the black bits in.” 

“The black bits? You mean vanilla pods?” Derek nodded. “OK. I grant you, posh vanilla can be nice.” Stiles tried to think of the next question. “Favourite Power Ranger?” 

“Tommy.” 

“Going with the classics. OK. I’d go with Cam myself for all the sarcasm but it’s not a deal breaker.” 

Derek frowned at him, “Picking the wrong Power Ranger would have been a deal breaker?” 

He looked genuinely worried. Stiles supposed making jokes like that in front of a guy relearning interaction could be a bad idea. 

“Not seriously,” Stiles said. “It might have sparked an hour-long debate, but I’d give you a chance to defend your choice.” 

“An hour-long debate?” Derek said. He sounded truly horrified by that prospect. 

“It would give you a chance to say at least two whole sentences,” Stiles teased. 

Derek gave him a growl and a glare. Stiles laughed. 

“I like your laugh,” Derek said. He said it so quietly that Stiles barely heard them. 

“I’ll laugh at you more often then,” Stiles said. Derek had been walking in front of Stiles for a moment and he let go of branch, which swung back into Stiles’ face. Stiles was pretty sure Derek had done that deliberately. 

They headed back to the big house and had lunch in the dining room with Cora and a few of the others. Stiles was starting to learn names now which was an improvement to thinking of them in terms of vague descriptions. Isaac and Boyd were there today. The others were nowhere in sight. Stiles noticed that Derek was silent again. He didn’t want to join in conversation, even when it was just his pack there. That needed fixing. 

“So, Derek,” Stiles said, “you play any sports?” 

Derek looked at him, panicked and angry in the same moment. He looked like he was plotting Stiles’ murder for asking him a direct question in front of others, but Stiles kept his eyes on Derek. He wasn’t letting this go. The others were waiting too, looking expectantly at Derek. 

“Basketball,” Derek said. “When I was at school.” 

“Basketball. Cool. I play lacrosse. Well, I say play. I mostly warm the bench.” 

“Maybe we could practice sometime,” said Isaac. “I’ve got my lacrosse gear. Or maybe we could look for a basketball, have a quick throw around.” 

He said that last part with a smile in Derek’s direction. Derek made a noise that was probably disagreement, but it was hard to be sure. 

“Words, Derek,” Stiles muttered. 

Derek gave a little growl, but he looked at Isaac and said, “It won’t be necessary.” 

“Of course not,” Stiles said. “No sport is ever necessary. But it could be fun.” 

Derek growled again. 

“Apparently fun goes against Derek’s principles,” Isaac commented, to the amusement of everyone at the table. Except Derek, of course. He growled at them. 

After lunch, Stiles lingered with Derek, unsure for a minute what they should do next. He was sticking to the idea of staying away from town for a while. When an idea finally occurred, he gave Derek a little smile. 

“I want you to tell me a story,” Stiles said. 

Derek looked at him like he’d just made a terrifying pronouncement. Stiles rolled his eyes. 

“The library books,” Stiles said. “Pick one and read it to me. You get to practice with words without having to think about them. It’s perfect. It’s why you wanted the books, right?” 

Which was how Stiles ended up in Derek’s room again. They sat on the floor, surrounded by the blankets and pillows and stuff that Derek had used to make his little nest. Derek took the time to get them comfortable, wrapping a blanket around the two of them to keep them warm and cosy. Stiles wasn’t sure if all this was just a delaying tactic to put off actually having to do any reading, but he let Derek do it since it seemed to be calming him. At last, they were sitting side by side next to Derek’s bed, wrapped up in their joint nest. Derek was pressed against his side and Stiles leaned in a little, partly because it was comfortable, and partly because Derek seemed to like it. 

Finally, Derek opened up one of the library books and started reading. 

“Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again,” Derek read. Stiles sat there and let the words wash over him, losing himself in the sound of Derek’s voice. At first, the words were slowed and studied, with occasional stumbles over unfamiliar words, but Derek seemed to get into a flow. Before he’d even finished with the dream bit, he was reading steadily, without any awkward pauses. He was still going slowly, but an outside observer might have assumed it was deliberate, to allow the story to sink in. It was strangely soothing, to sit there and have a story read to him. 

Derek was just reading about the first meeting between the heroine and Mr de Winter when there was a sudden clicking noise. Stiles looked up to see Cora standing in the doorway, phone in hand. She’d just taken a picture. 

“Well isn’t that the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” she commented. 

Derek tossed the book aside and leapt up. 

“I’m going to kill you,” he snarled, charging at her. Cora laughed and ran down the stairs. Stiles hurried after the pair of them, delayed a little by the fact that one of the blankets got tangled round his legs. He ran down the stairs as fast as he dared in case Derek did something stupid. 

He got down there and found them in the dining room. Cora was doing her best to keep the table between them, laughing as she tried to fiddle with her phone and dodge her brother at the same time. Derek put a hand on the table and vaulted over it, grabbing at the hand with the phone. Derek held her by the wrist, snarling. 

“Delete the photo,” Derek said, “or I will crush your phone.” 

“Too late,” Cora said, still smiling, despite her furious brother. 

There was a buzzing in Stiles’ pocket. Derek spun to face him, eyes still shining red, face still furious. Stiles pulled the phone from his pocket and saw the photo message from Cora. It was a nice photo. The two of them were all cuddled up beneath the blankets. Derek was even smiling a little, the expression just visible on the face bent down over the book. Stiles’ eyes were closed as he listened, his head leaning onto Derek’s shoulder. 

Back in the present, Derek put a hand on Stiles’ shoulder and pressed him back against the dining room wall. It wasn’t a violent move, but there was a strength to it that Stiles couldn’t resist against. Stiles remembered that he ought to be scared. Derek was glowering into his face from a position right inside his personal space. Their bodies were practically pressed together. Stiles really should have been worried, but all he could think about was that Derek looked really, really hot right now. 

“Get rid of the photo,” Derek said. 

Stiles slipped the phone into his pocket. 

“Or what?” Stiles asked. “You’re not going to hurt me. We both know that. And you’re not going to destroy my phone, because that would really upset me. So you’ve got nothing.” 

After a moment, Derek’s hand dropped from Stiles’ shoulder. Stiles had an instant to feel smug satisfaction that he’d defeated Derek with his logic. Then Derek’s hands were at his sides, under his ribs. Stiles shrieked and squealed, the sounds leaving his throat involuntarily as Derek assaulted him with tickles. He tried to get away, tried to squirm out of Derek’s grip, tried to bat those hands away, but his body was writhing under the attack, out of his control. 

“God damn, evil werewolf,” Stiles gasped out between fits of helpless giggles, his body no longer his to command. He collapsed down onto the ground and Derek was still there, sitting astride Stiles’ legs to continue the tickle assault. 

“Evil bastard,” Stiles gasped. He tried to get Derek’s sides, to tickle back, to deal out some measure of vengeance. 

There came another camera click. Derek froze. He looked up towards his sister, who was smirking down at them. 

Derek leapt off Stiles and charged at Cora. He grabbed her around the waist with one arm as he tried to flee. He held her from behind. With his other hand, he attacked her sides as he’d just been attacking Stiles’. She laughed and writhed in his grip. Stiles got to his feet, wiping moisture from his eyes as he did so. He wondered if he ought to try rescuing Cora. 

He noticed some shift in mood. He wasn’t sure what it was at first. Derek’s hand stilled, but Cora was still there, held in his other arm, caught in that place between laughter and tears. She cried and laughed together, even without the tickling to induce it. She put her arms against her brother’s arm, hugging that little piece of him. 

“I’ve missed you, Derek,” she said. That’s when Stiles saw the tears on Derek’s cheeks too. 

Derek let go of Cora. He sunk down onto his knees, crying. Cora spun to face him and hugged him properly, crying into him as he cried into her. Stiles was left on the sidelines, feeling like he was missing something huge, like something monumental had just happened and he hadn’t recognised it. He wasn’t sure if he should leave. This was clearly something private between the siblings. He slipped out of the room. 

He was just opening up his jeep when Cora hurried out of the house. 

“Hey, Stiles,” she called. “Are you leaving?” 

“That looked like a private thing between you two. I didn’t want to intrude.” 

She was smiling a little. 

“It was like we were children again,” she said. “When we were little, we used to get in tickle wars over stupid stuff. Today, that felt the same. It felt like I had my brother back. Thank you, Stiles.” 

“You’re welcome. I’ll be back tomorrow.” 

Before Stiles could leave, Cora put her arms around him in a quick hug. 

“See you soon, Stiles.” 

Stiles nodded. He got into his jeep and drove home. He felt his phone buzzing on the way and, when he checked it, he saw a picture of himself on the floor, Derek kneeling over him and tickling. It wasn’t as good as the cuddly book picture. The cuddly book picture was going to be his new lock screen.


	10. Chapter 10

“You’ve got a photo of you cuddling as the lock screen on your phone,” Scott said. 

“I know. I’m the one that changed my phone’s settings,” Stiles said. He wasn’t quite sure why Scott was staring at him like that. They were grabbing a coffee together before Scott headed over to Deaton’s for work. Stiles had been spending so much time with Derek lately that there hadn’t been as much bro time and so they’d decided to catch up today. But now Scott was just staring at him over his latte. 

“What were you even doing like that anyway?” Scott asked. 

“Derek was practicing his reading.” 

Scott raised an eyebrow. It was an expression that immediately made Stiles think of Derek. Stiles hoped that didn’t show on his face. He ducked his head to drink some of his coffee. 

“Have you at least kissed him yet?” Scott asked. 

Stiles spluttered his coffee. A couple at the next table turned around to look as Stiles grabbed at napkins and dried to wipe coffee splatters off the table. And his shirt. 

“No,” Stiles said. “Of course not. Why would I do that? Why would you even suggest it?” 

“Come on, Stiles. You are spending all your time with this guy. You even called it dating. You snuggle up with him so he can read you stories. And I know you think he’s hot.” 

“Yeah... but... thinking he’s hot doesn’t mean I’m going to kiss him. I mean, you’ve seen him. He’s getting better now but to do anything with him while he’s like this... I can’t do that. It would be taking advantage. I mean, this is a guy who can barely talk and who can’t walk through a mall without getting arrested. He’s hardly in a position to make rational decisions. I mean... what happens when he gets back to normal?” Stiles didn’t quite finish saying that thought. What would happen when Derek got back to normal and realised he could do so much better than Stiles? 

Scott just laughed a little at Stiles’ dilemma, “So a hot guy is literally throwing himself at you and you’re too much of a gentleman to let him do all the things he wants to do to you? I never thought I’d live to see this day.” 

“It’s a complicated situation,” Stiles said. “It’s not like he actually likes me for me.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“He started getting all... obsessive about me after he’d seen me for all of two seconds, without knowing a thing about me. There’s no way to know if he’ll even like me when he’s back to being... whoever the hell he was before he became like this.” 

“Anyone who wouldn’t like you after you’ve gone through all this for them,” Scott said, “would have to be crazy.” 

“Not the best way to reassure me given his current state of mind.” 

Scott considered this. 

“OK, point,” he said. “But I still think he’ll have to like you with all you’ve done for him.” 

“I don’t want him to like me because he has to or he feels guilty or he feels like he owes me something. I want him to like me just because he likes me.” 

Scott gave Stiles a long look. 

“How did you end up falling for a,” Scott glanced round at the coffee shop full of people, and finished the question, “for someone like him?” 

Stiles’ first instinct was to argue that he hadn’t fallen for Derek, but there was no point. Scott knew him too well and Stiles knew Scott was right. Somewhere along the way, amid all the terror and violence, Stiles had fallen for Derek. 

“He’s kind of sweet,” Stiles said. 

“He goes around growling and killing things.” 

“But in a sweet way.” 

Scott gave him another long look, like he was trying to figure out if Stiles was serious. In the end, he just shook his head and downed the remains of his coffee. 

“You’re as crazy as he is,” Scott announced. “Now, I’ve got to get to work.” 

Stiles sat there a while longer, sipping at his coffee. He really had fallen for Derek. He didn’t know when exactly it had happened, but there could be no doubt. Somewhere in between creepy attempts at romantic gifts, cuddling up with books, or the fact that Derek would fight anyone who hurt him, Stiles had fallen for Derek. And it would hurt like hell when Derek realised he could do so much better. 

***

Stiles went home once he’d finished his coffee. His plan was to go to the house in the woods with some West Wing DVDs. As a teaching aid show, it had an awful lot of talking. He was still working on convincing Derek that words were not an evil conspiracy. He was hunting for the DVDs when there came a knock at the door. Stiles went to answer it and Derek stood there, clutching a cuddly bunny in his arms. 

He thrust the bunny at Stiles, actually hitting him in the chest with it. Stiles tried not to laugh as he took the stuffed toy and looked at it. He took a moment to check that it was definitely a toy but it was, complete with price tag still attached to a floppy ear. 

“You said toy ones were allowed,” Derek said. 

“It’s adorable,” Stiles said. “But where did it come from?” 

“I went back to the mall.” 

“You bought this? On your own?” Stiles’ voice was filled with a fierce pride. When Derek nodded, Stiles put his arms round him without even thinking about it. This was an amazing accomplishment for Derek and it deserved treating as such. 

“I didn’t get arrested,” Derek said. 

“Then double congratulations,” Stiles said. “Not getting arrested is definitely one of the criteria for a successful shopping trip.” 

He expected Derek to growl or something, to show his disapproval for Stiles’ sense of humour the way he normally did. Instead, he had that look of fierce concentration on his face, like he was trying to say something but wasn’t sure of the words. Stiles let him into the house and then stood there in the hallway, waiting for Derek to figure out whatever it was he wanted to say. 

“I can walk through a mall without getting arrested,” Derek said. “I can make rational decisions. I know what I want.” 

He growled out the words, not looking at Stiles. His hands were clenched into fists at his side, like the act of uttering those words pained him. Stiles felt a shock of pain too, when he recognised some of the words he’d said earlier to Scott. 

“You’ve been eavesdropping again, haven’t you?” Stiles said. Derek nodded. 

“At some point we’re going to have to have a conversation about that,” Stiles said. 

“I know what I want,” Derek said again. This time, he looked at Stiles, eyes pleading. Stiles had seen that expression on his face before. Derek needed something but didn’t have the words to ask for it. 

Derek gave a low frustrated growl. His eyes shone red again, burning with anger. 

“You don’t trust me,” he snarled. 

“Of course I trust you.” 

“No!” Derek moved towards Stiles, crowding in on him. Stiles’ instinct was to move back, but he forced his feet to stay planted. He had to prove his trust. Derek glowered into Stiles’ eyes, their faces so close Stiles could feel the warmth of Derek’s breath. Stiles just stood there, hands clutching the stuffed bunny, unsure of how to react. 

“I tell you what I feel,” Derek snarled, “but you don’t trust that I mean it. You think I’m confused. You think I’m crazy.” He spat that last word out. 

The anger faded into disappointment. The red faded from his eyes, leaving them their natural colour, a grey-green shade that seemed to hold hues of yellow and gold. Those eyes held such sadness in them. 

“You don’t believe me,” Derek said. 

“I don’t believe that someone like you could fall in love at first sight with someone like me?” Stiles said. “Of course I don’t. That sort of thing just doesn’t happen. Not to someone like me. I mean, look at you.” 

Stiles snapped the words with more anger than he intended. He wasn’t angry at Derek. Not really. He was angry because he knew that this would end. Derek looked like a supermodel crossed with a wet dream and he had a fiercely protective nature coupled with a sweet sentimentality underneath. He could have just about anyone he might want. There was no way he’d want to be with Stiles when this was over. 

“It wasn’t love at first sight,” Derek said. “It was love at first scent.” 

“So you’re telling me you like me because I smell good? That’s not really helping your case.” 

Derek snarled. He grabbed Stiles by the shoulder and shoved him against the wall. Stiles nearly dropped the bunny in surprise. 

“Shut up,” Derek snarled. “Listen.” 

For once in his life, Stiles actually shut up when he was told to. 

“Smell is,” Derek started. He stopped. “Your scent isn’t just you. Your smell is the places you’ve been, the people you’ve been with, the items you’ve touched, the stuff you’ve eaten, the things you’ve done. Even your emotions. Things you’ve felt. Your whole life clings to you. It’s like another language. One I could understand when I couldn’t understand much of anything else. When you came into my house, you’d been running. Your scent was pouring off you. It was like you were shouting who you were. I fell in love with that scent before I even saw you.” 

Derek looked into Stiles’ eyes, a smile twitching the corners of his mouth ever so slightly. 

“But I have no objections about what I see.” 

Stiles felt his stomach give a little lurch. Because he still couldn’t quite believe that Derek would want him like this, but there could be no doubt about the sincerity in Derek’s eyes. 

“I don’t know,” Stiles said quietly, “if that was the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard or the creepiest.” 

Derek gave a little growl of annoyance. It was threatening or angry or anything like that, just a little sound to let Stiles know how he felt. Maybe there were occasions where wolf behaviour was more efficient than words at getting a point across. 

“I like you, Derek. I enjoy spending time with you, which I honestly didn’t expect when I started all this. And you are seriously, wet-dream-worthy attractive. But this still feels weird to me. I’m not the guy people want. I’m the guy people don’t notice even exists. I’m the guy who asks someone to a dance only for her to laugh in my face. I just can’t wrap my head around being wanted the way you say you want me and there’s a bit of me that keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop, a bit of me that thinks this is all too good to be true and that it’s going to fall apart any minute. And I’m freaking out because what if I say yes and we do... I don’t know what... and then it turns out that it was just wolf-you infatuated with my smell and the human you can’t stand me. I don’t know if I could face having this and then losing it. Plus there’s the fact that you’ve got to be, like, five years older than me, at least, and my dad will literally murder you if we actually do anything, or at the very least he’ll arrest you on charges of statutory rape, so there’s that to consider. And there’s...” 

“Stiles, you talk too much,” Derek said. 

Stiles was about to protest that the problem was that Derek didn’t talk enough, but then Derek’s lips were pressed against his and Stiles gave up any thought of argument. 

Stiles hadn't really ever kissed anyone before and now Derek’s lips were pressed against his, hot and desperate. Stiles let his mouth fall open. He brought his arms around Derek, hand still clutching the bunny, feeling warmth and strength. So much was held in that kiss. So much need. So much fear. The fear that this might not be real, that this might be all they got. 

Derek worked a hand through Stiles’ hair and the fear slipped away. This couldn’t be faked. Not this. 

When Derek finally let Stiles up for air, he buried his face in the crook of Stiles’ neck again, snuffling and sniffing. Stiles kept his arms around Derek, letting him, just trying to get his breath back. 

“OK, wow,” Stiles muttered. Derek nuzzled under his ear and a little tremor ran through Stiles. 

“Wow,” he murmured again. He shifted position, aware of the suddenly uncomfortable tightness of his pants, but that just made things worse because he was then effectively rubbing against Derek. 

In his hallway. 

Right in front of the front door. 

A sudden fear drove Stiles’ libido away completely. What if Stiles’ dad decided to come home and surprise him by having lunch with him? The odds of it happening were about the same as Stiles being struck by lightning twice in one day, but the fear was still enough to put a damper on everything he was feeling. 

Derek seemed to realise something was wrong. He pulled back from his nuzzling and gave Stiles a quizzical look. 

“We can’t do this,” Stiles said. He pulled away from Derek, sliding along the wall to get away. Derek let him, moving back. He had that same puzzled and sad look on his face that he’d had at the beginning when Stiles had been upset about the dead animals. 

“You’re older than me,” Stiles said. “I wasn’t kidding about my dad arresting you if he found out about this. And... I need time to...” To actually believe that this was really happening to him. Finding out that werewolves were real was less weird than finding out someone could actually, really, truly be in love with him. Stiles kept thinking of that time when he’d tried to ask Lydia to a dance. He remembered her laughter and Jackson’s scornful words. Even now, after that kiss, he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting to hear that this was a joke or a misunderstanding. 

But Derek was still looking at him, confused. 

“You’re not the only one with issues,” Stiles said. 

***

They watched The West Wing, curled up together on the couch. It felt as weird as the first time they’d sat together, but for a whole host of different reasons. Stiles wanted to turn round and kiss Derek. He was thinking about that more than he was following the plot. He wondered what would happened if he turned this into a make out session. He wondered what Derek was like it bed. 

Then he caught Derek looking at him and was terrified that Derek could smell what he was thinking. 

Stiles had the cuddly bunny on his lap, held in one arm. As romantic gestures went, it certainly beat a skinned real bunny. And it was proof of how much better Derek was getting at dealing with people. He could manage a normal transaction by himself. He still struggled with words, but his thoughts were human underneath. At first, Stiles had acted like everything was weird animal instincts, but he couldn’t deny that there was thought behind them now too. 

The episode came to an end and Stiles got up to put the disc back in its case. 

“You’re intelligent,” Derek said. Stiles dropped the disc in surprise. 

“Huh? What?” 

“I’ve got a new exercise,” Derek said. “I need to practice talking and you need to stop thinking you don’t deserve to be happy. So my new exercise is that I will tell you what I like about you. Once a day, I’ll tell you someone different. Maybe it will help fix both of us.” 

Stiles couldn't help his grin. He cuddled his bunny to him and felt the warm glow those words stirred up. He didn’t go and kiss Derek senseless right there because he knew if he did they’d end up naked on the couch when his dad got home from work. But he wanted to. And he thought Derek knew he wanted to. 

***

“So hypothetically,” Stiles started, while he and his dad were sitting down to dinner. 

“Oh god,” said his dad. “What did you do?” 

“What? Nothing! It’s hypothetical!”

“I have nightmares that start with you uttering those words.” His dad’s glare was cold and hard. This wasn’t the way Stiles had hoped this conversation would go. 

“So hypothetically,” Stiles tried again, avoiding his dad’s eyes, “if I were to get myself a boyfriend who was a few years older than me,” he definitely avoided his dad’s eyes at that, “at what point would you break out the lethal weapons and put him under arrest?” 

His dad glowered at him across the dinner table. 

“You’re dating Derek Hale?” 

“Kind of,” Stiles said. “And I’m just wondering what I can do with him that won’t result in my sort-of-boyfriend ending up in jail. I mean, if we started making out, would you put handcuffs on him? I just want to know where the boundary lines are.” 

“You want to know the extent of what you can get away with, you mean?” 

“Maybe?” 

Stiles cringed under his dad’s glare. He’d known this conversation wouldn’t be easy, but he’d hoped it would go alright. His dad had been really supportive the first time he’d brought up the topic of Stiles dating another guy. Of course, that had been before he’d nearly arrested Derek for putting three guys in the hospital. 

“He’s too old for you,” his dad said. 

“I know. That’s why I’m worried about you arresting him. But sixteen is the age of consent in a lot of places so really it shouldn’t matter all that much.” 

“Are you having sex with him?” his dad sounded horrified. 

“No! Of course not. Not yet anyway.” 

His dad looked like he was about to bang his head against the table. He might have done if he hadn’t had his dinner plate in front of him. He dragged a hand over his face and through his hair. 

“Stiles, I don’t think this is a sensible choice. I saw how he was after the incident at the mall. I don’t think he’s... completely right.” 

“If he was completely right in the head, he wouldn’t want to date me.” 

His dad’s expression completely changed, the anger vanishing in a heartbeat. He reached a hand across the table to rest it on Stiles’ arm. 

“Stiles,” he said, “you shouldn’t settle.” 

“It’s not settling. He’s sweet and kind and he likes cuddling up in a blanket with a book and he wants to protect me and he likes me because I’m intelligent and...” 

His dad held up a hand. “Stop talking before I throw up.” 

“Derek’s nice, dad. I know not everyone would see it straight away, but he is. And he likes me.” 

His dad sighed. 

“Fine. I won’t arrest him for dating you, but if you so much as remove clothes in front of each other, I will be arresting him for sexually harassing a minor. You got me?” 

“I get you,” Stiles said. He was already thinking of what he could do to Derek without either of them removing clothes. Unfortunately, his dad knew him too well. 

“And no... I dunno... stroking each other off through pants or anything like that. Any orgasms before your eighteenth birthday and I will see he spends the rest of his life in jail. Understand?” 

“Yeah.” 

“And he’s coming for dinner tomorrow.” 

Stiles considered what that was going to be like, and muttered, “Crap.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Work's got slightly manic, so I'll be delaying posting for a few days until I have time to write again. In the meantime, have a horrible cliffhanger. :)

Stiles took Derek to the store to buy groceries. This was partly because it was a useful exercise in being around people, but partly so that Stiles could buy food for dinner that would put his dad in a good mood. As expected, Derek seemed absolutely terrified of the prospect of dinner with Stiles’ dad. 

“It’ll be fine,” Stiles said, with confidence he didn’t feel. “I mean, you’re doing so much better than you were.” 

They were standing in the meat section of the supermarket. Stiles stared at the steaks, trying to decide if that would make it too obvious what he was trying to do and have the opposite effect on his dad. He picked up the leanest steaks he could find. Just because his dad would recognise it as bribery didn’t mean it wouldn’t work. 

“It’s like driving,” Derek said. 

Stiles gave him a puzzled look. He wondered if Derek had meant to say ‘like riding a bike’ and had got the idiom wrong. But Derek continued talking. 

“When you start learning to drive, there’s a lot to think about. All the different things you have to remember.” 

“Like how to shift gears,” Stiles said, “which pedal is the brake, which switch controls the turn signals and which the wipers, that kind of thing?” 

Derek nodded. 

“And you have to think about everyone else, what they expect,” Derek continued. He glanced over at a couple who were choosing between chickens a few cabinets down. “You have to watch out for signals and signs that tell you what’s going on. It’s all too much to think about.” 

Stiles thought he saw where Derek was going with this analogy. 

“It’s all difficult at first,” Stiles said, “because while you know everything you have to think about all the different bits all at once and they all take concentration and if you lose focus on something for a minute you end up crashing into your neighbour’s fence and your dad threatens to lock you in the drunk tank for a night to teach you to be more careful.” Derek gave him a look. “Or maybe that last part’s just me,” he said. 

“I know what I have to do,” Derek said, “but I have to concentrate all the time.” 

They moved on from the meat section and, while they continued working through Stiles’ shopping list, Stiles kept talking. 

“But it gets easier,” he said. “You practice your driving enough and pretty soon you can have a conversation or listen to the radio or think about other stuff, and you don’t even notice the driving. It just takes a bit of time.” 

Derek nodded. He gave Stiles a sideways look and a little smile. 

“You have faith in people,” Derek said. 

“Is this your making-me-feel-good exercise?” 

Derek nodded again. 

“Well, you’re sweet,” Stiles said. Derek growled. “Don’t deny it. We both know you are.” 

Derek growled again. It was a quiet sound that Stiles was pretty sure no one else in the place could hear. It was meant just for Stiles. For some reason, that gave him the warm fuzzies as much as being presented with a cuddly bunny. There was definitely something wrong with him if he felt like this about someone _growling_ at him. But there he was, fighting down a grin as he checked the use-by dates on the bottles of milk. 

***

Derek said hello to the cashier and then declined help with bagging up the groceries. It was all polite and normal and with no growling at all. Stiles felt like he should be awarding Derek gold star stickers for managing normal human interaction without anyone batting an eyelid. Stiles paid and then they carried the stuff out to the jeep. Derek’s werewolf strength came in handy as he carried most of the stuff, with Stiles managing one little bag. They stuck everything in the back seat. 

“Should I drop you off or do you want to come back to my place?” Stiles asked. “You could help me cook.” 

The terror was back on Derek’s face. 

“Should I,” he asked, “Should I wear something smarter?” 

He looked down at his clothes, the jeans and t-shirt, the leather jacket. 

“You’ll be fine. It would be weirder if you turned up in a suit and tie,” Stiles said. “I’m planning on wearing what I’d normally wear.” 

Derek nodded. He didn’t look any more comfortable though. Stiles suspected he was overthinking this. Stiles put a hand on Derek’s arm, steadying him. 

“It’ll be fine,” Stiles insisted. 

Derek's eyes changed to a glowing red. There was a low growl deep in his throat. 

“Just don’t do that,” Stiles said. 

But Derek wasn’t paying attention to him anymore. He was staring over Stiles’ shoulder, his expression somewhere between terror and fury. Even as Stiles watched, Derek’s teeth lengthened into vicious fangs. 

“Stiles, get in the car and get out of here as fast as possible,” Derek snarled quietly. 

Stiles turned to see what Derek was looking at. There was a woman in the parking lot. She was a few years older than Derek, blond and gorgeous and looking straight at him. If she’d noticed the glowing eyes, she wasn’t perturbed by them. 

“What’s going on?” Stiles asked. “Who is she?” 

“Stiles, go,” Derek insisted. 

But there was no way he was leaving Derek alone right now, especially since he looked about half a second away from tearing this woman into pieces. Stiles waited by Derek’s side as the woman crossed the parking lot. She flashed a brilliant smile at Stiles. 

“I heard someone was trying to tame this one,” she said. “You should be careful. You know what they say about old dogs and new tricks.” 

“Good job he’s not a dog then,” Stiles said. 

She gave him a brief smirk and then looked back at Derek. She still paid no apparent attention to the fact that Derek’s eyes were glowing. She just looked him up and down appreciatively. 

“I can see the temptation,” she said. “This one grew up in all the right places. Watch out though, he likes it rough. Don’t you, Derek? Those claw marks I used to get.” There was a suggestive edge to her voice. “Don’t you remember, Derek, all the fun we used to have?” 

“I remember you murdering my family.” 

She pouted a little, “Oh, sweetie, please. It’s not murder to put down a rabid dog.” 

“There were children in that house,” Derek snarled from behind fangs. 

“Well puppies,” she said. 

What the hell was wrong with her? Stiles felt physically sickened by the implications of her words, and by her calm tone. How could anyone speak in such a blasé fashion about killing children? 

More than that, she didn’t seem to be the slightest bit concerned by the fact that Derek was snarling at her, moments away from transforming into a supernatural monster. No, Stiles realised that that wasn’t quite right. It wasn’t that she didn’t care. She was amused by it. She wanted this. 

Stiles stepped between her and Derek. 

“Why are you trying to provoke him?” Stiles asked. 

The woman’s smile took on a more genuine, but colder, note. She gave a little quirk of her head that was almost a nod of acknowledgement. 

Something clicked in Stiles’ mind, understanding flowing. This was like the business at the mall. Those assholes had said all that stuff because they’d been itching for a fight, they’d wanted something to start but they’d wanted the other side to be the one that started it so they could proclaim their innocence later. This woman was trying to provoke Derek because that would give her an excuse. 

“Remember the mall,” Stiles muttered, quiet enough that only Derek would be able to hear. “She’s trying to provoke you. She wants you to attack her so whatever she does is self-defence. If you give her an excuse, she wins.” 

Derek’s eyes flickered towards Stiles. A moment later, the red faded out of them. 

“Let’s get in the car,” Stiles said. Derek moved away. Stiles kept looking at the woman, hearing the car door open and shut behind him. Only then did he move, rounding the jeep towards the driver’s side. 

“You can’t keep him on a leash forever,” the woman said. 

“I don’t need to,” Stiles answered. 

He got into the driver’s seat and started the engine with hands that trembled as he clutched the key. He half-considered “accidentally” hitting the woman with his car as he pulled out of the parking spot, but that was probably a bad idea. He kept an eye on her in his mirror as he drove away. 

Beside him, Derek was shaking. 

“You OK?” Stiles asked. Derek growled. “OK, dumb question, I know. Who the hell was she?” 

For a minute, Stiles thought that Derek had lost his words altogether. But, eventually, he spoke. 

“Kate,” he said. 

“Just Kate?” 

“Kate Argent.” 

“Oh crap.” 

Derek turned in his seat to look at Stiles, a silent question on his face. 

Stiles tried to think of a way to explain that wouldn’t make Derek all growly and furious. He failed. 

“I may have,” he said slowly, “had a couple of conversations with Chris Argent about you.” 

Derek snarled. 

“I know!” Stiles said quickly. “I probably should have said something sooner but I didn’t know how to bring it up. After that mess at the mall, he stopped by to tell me about how dangerous you were and I made the point that the other guys started it. I don’t know if I convinced him of anything, but he went away and I was kinda hoping it was over. I know, that was stupid of me, but I tend to like the approach of just ignoring problems and hoping they go away, which unfortunately it seems isn’t what’s going to happen here.” 

Stiles’ flow of words stumbled to a halt. Derek was still glaring at him. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner,” Stiles said. 

“We need to talk to Cora,” Derek said. “I need... We have to gather the pack. It can’t happen again.” 

Stiles almost asked what he meant, but the pieces were there in the things he’d heard, the things he knew about Derek’s past. Derek had said that there had been children in the house. His house. The house that had burned down. Derek had been talking about Kate killing his family and she’d tried to provoke him into starting a fight. She wanted more violence. 

Stiles forgot about the groceries in the back of the jeep and headed for the big house in the preserve. Beside him, Derek glowered at the world in general. 

As soon as Stiles stopped the jeep in front of the house, Derek was jumping out. 

“Cora!” Derek called. By the time Stiles had taken the keys from the ignition and got out of the jeep, Cora was at the door of the house. Erica was there behind her, clearly drawn by curiosity to see what could possibly rile Derek up to the point where he was willing to yell. 

“What’s going on?” Cora asked. 

“Gather the pack,” Derek said. “We need to defend the boundaries.” 

“What happened?” Cora said. She already had her phone out of her pocket and was clearly calling a number even as she acted. “Call Boyd,” she said to Erica, then turned back to Derek, waiting for an answer. 

“Hunters,” Derek said. “The Argents are trying to start something. We need everyone here. We need to prepare.” 

He stalked into the house. Stiles trailed behind. He wasn’t sure if he was invited but he figured the werewolves might have a few questions about his encounters with the Argents. Even while he was thinking about hunters and threats, Stiles noticed something about Derek. His whole demeanour had changed. Even the way he spoke was different, more confident. The words flowed out without any hesitation. Derek wasn’t thinking about every word anymore. He was thinking about the Argents and the words were just happening automatically. 

Cora was on the phone to Isaac, telling him to come. A moment later, she hung up and called one of the twins instead. Erica had told Boyd to come too, sounding really confused but saying that it was important. 

Derek stalked through the house, room after room. He’d walked into one room, look around, and then walk out a moment later. It was methodical but bewildering. Stiles waited with Cora and Erica in the hallway, watching as Derek made his way upstairs to presumably do the same thing on the upper floors. 

“What’s he doing?” Stiles asked Cora. 

“Checking for any sign or scent of intruders,” Derek called down from above. 

“Wouldn’t you have noticed intruders?” Stiles asked, again addressing the question to Cora. 

“I have to be sure,” Derek called down. 

Cora looked worried, almost afraid. She checked her phone repeatedly, even though there hadn’t been a sound from it. Stiles suspected she was checking the time, to see how long it had been since she’d called the others, wondering if she should call them again to check. Stiles had been the one nervously waiting for his dad to come home from a dangerous job more than once, so he knew the symptoms. 

“What is going on?” Erica asked. She looked more annoyed than afraid. “Who are the Argents?” 

“Werewolf hunters,” Cora answered. “We suspect they’re the ones who burned down our old house and killed most of our pack a few years ago.” 

“Kate Argent basically admitted that today,” Stiles said. “She was trying to provoke a fight. I think she wanted an excuse to hurt Derek.” 

“’We hunt those who hunt us’,” Cora muttered. 

“What?” Stiles asked. 

“It’s their supposed code. In theory they only go after werewolves who’ve hurt humans. That’s what they claim anyway. If one of them got Derek to show violence, it would give them a reason to attack us while still sticking to their own rules.” 

“An excuse to attack Derek anyway.” 

Cora shook her head and said, “All of us. Derek is the alpha of this pack. If the hunters decide the alpha is a threat, they go after the whole pack.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. Work's been busy and I've had novel proofs back from the publisher. Both of those have to take priority. 
> 
> There will probably be another little delay before the next chapter.

The whole pack gathered around the dining table like a council of war. Derek had been moving with surety up to this point, but he showed the first hint of hesitation when it became clear he was expected to speak in front of everyone gathered. He stood there for a moment, and Stiles wondered if he should say something, if he should start to explain or encourage Derek or something. Then Derek straightened and looked around the room. When he spoke, there was the barest hint of his early fumblings over words. 

“Some of you have come across the Argents before,” he said. “They’re hunters. They claim to follow a code, to only hurt werewolves who are a threat to humans, but they will take any excuse to hurt us, and some of them don’t bother with the code at all. Kate Argent burned down our house with most of the pack, including children, inside.” 

Stiles looked round the table. This didn’t seem to come as a surprise to the twins, but Isaac, Erica and Boyd looked horrified. Cora looked angry, jaw set as she stared at the table’s surface. 

“Now they’re back,” Derek said. 

“Are you sure they’re going to attack?” Cora asked. 

Derek looked over towards Stiles. 

“Chris Argent kept telling me about how dangerous you guys are,” Stiles said, “and Kate was definitely trying to start a fight today. She was looking for an excuse.” 

“So we don’t give them one,” Cora said. “We have to be perfectly in control. We can’t give them any reason to think we’re dangerous.” 

“The full moon’s coming up,” Isaac said. 

“Then we spend it here. We use the chains. We shut ourselves away so that there’s no chance of anyone getting caught up in the pack when we’re under the moon’s influence.” 

“No,” Derek said. Cora looked towards him again. 

“Not the chains,” Derek continued. “If we use the chains, if we lock ourselves up, we make ourselves vulnerable.” 

Cora considered this for a moment, then nodded. 

“But you’re right,” Derek said. “We can’t have a hunt on the full moon. The pack must stay together, in control. We have to stay human. We can’t give them the slightest reason.” 

Isaac, Erica and Boyd shared nervous glances but none of them said anything. Stiles just sat there, unsure if there was anything he could contribute to the conversation. Maybe he could go back to the Argents, tell them that the Hales were safe. But he doubted anyone who’d burn down a building full of people would be swayed by anything he might say to them. 

“In the meantime,” Derek said, “we stay together and we stay alert. They’re not going to want to take on the pack.” 

“What about dinner?” Stiles asked, the words leaving his mouth before he stopped to think about whether this was a sensible thing to ask right now. Everyone round the table turned to look at him and the confidence that Derek had somehow gained over the past few minutes seemed to melt away again. 

It was Cora who broke the silence, saying, “Well, the Argents aren’t going to want to attack the sheriff or the sheriff’s son. Maybe you should go.” 

“Maybe we should talk to my dad,” Stiles said. “I mean, you guys may be werewolves but that doesn’t stop it being a crime to attack you. Maybe we should... tell him everything. About the fire and the Argents. You haven’t committed any crimes, so it’s the sheriff’s job to protect you.” 

“Unless he decides we’re dangerous monsters,” Derek said, “and looks the other way when the Argents attack.” 

“My dad wouldn’t do that.” 

There were looks of scepticism from around the table. Stiles tried not to feel angry about that. They didn’t know his dad. But Stiles did. His dad had become a cop because he wanted to help people, to live up to that ideal encapsulated in the words ‘to protect and serve’. Stiles didn’t doubt that his dad would want to protect Derek and his pack. But he couldn’t spill this secret without their agreement. 

“Come to dinner anyway,” Stiles said to Derek. “Don’t say anything about werewolves or hunters or anything, but just talk to him. Let him see you as a person. If nothing else, it can’t hurt if the Argents see because maybe they’ll think that you’ve got the sheriff on your side. If might get them to stop and think about whether they really want to attack.” 

Derek didn’t seem any more enthusiastic about the idea of dinner with the sheriff than he had in the store, but he didn’t dismiss the idea instantly. 

“It can’t hurt,” Cora said quietly, “if the sheriff gets to know us. If we’re seen around the sheriff’s house on a regular basis, maybe the Argents will think twice.” 

“Or they’ll think we’re trying to influence the sheriff and will attack sooner,” Derek said. 

Stiles wanted to make a comment on the futility of pessimism, but Derek had seen his entire family murdered. Judging from Kate’s comments and Derek liking it rough, he’d seen his entire family murdered by someone he’d known intimately. Maybe Derek could be excuse extreme levels of pessimism. 

“Look,” Stiles said, “I can’t help you with sniffing out intruders or defending pack boundaries or whatever, but I can help get my dad on your side. Getting the sheriff on your side gets the entire Beacon Hills Police Department on your side. Maybe it will be make the Argents decide attacking you is too big of a risk. It’s worth a shot.” 

“Or I’ll screw up at dinner and your dad will decide we’re all monsters and help the Argents kill us,” Derek said. 

“Just don’t growl or spout claws and you’ll be fine.” 

***

Derek stuck to his decision that no member of the pack was to be left alone, so Stiles’ jeep had been flanked by the Camaro on the drive back. Cora, Boyd and Erica had followed them the whole way, waited until they were safely inside that house, and then drove away. They would be waiting for a text from Stiles when it was time for Derek to leave later. They’d decided that the Argents weren’t likely to attack the sheriff’s house, so Derek ought to be safe while he was inside, but they weren’t going to risk anything happening on the roads in between. 

Now Derek stood in the Stilinski kitchen helping Stiles prepare dinner. He looked with scepticism at the pile of vegetables in front of him. 

“I thought the plan was to put your dad in a good mood,” Derek said. 

“It is,” Stiles said. “That’s why I have the steaks. But there are lines I don’t cross. He’s getting vegetables. Get chopping.” 

Derek rolled his eyes and obeyed. Stiles tried not to feel worried. Derek was still using words, which was a good thing. In fact, he seemed more relaxed in his language skills than before. Maybe the threat to his pack had kicked in some werewolf instinct that made him overcome his communications blockage. He certainly hadn’t had a problem talking in front of the others about important matters. Maybe the safety of the pack was enough of a concern for him that he forgot to be concerned about anything else. 

“There’s danger for you,” Derek said quietly, knife working through a celery stalk. 

“In case you didn’t notice, I’m not a werewolf.” 

“Kate won’t care about you getting caught in the crossfire.” 

There were a million things Stiles wanted to ask about Kate. He wanted to know if the things she’d insinuated were really true. He wanted to know what she’d done to Derek. But for once it was Stiles who couldn’t think of a way to put things into words. 

So he just kept making dinner. 

They got the vegetables ready but Stiles waited to put in the steaks until he heard his dad’s car in the driveway, so that they could have them properly rare. Derek stood by the carefully laid kitchen table, looking as terrified as he had been after being put in handcuffs at the mall. But his eyes weren’t glowing, so Stiles was still positive about how this would turn out. 

Stiles’ dad walked into the kitchen. He glanced at Stiles and then gave Derek a long, hard stare. 

“So,” he said. “Derek Hale.” 

“Good evening, sir,” Derek said. He held out a hand and took a nervous step forward. His tone was anxious, but nothing that couldn’t be explained by the fact that a man was meeting his underage boyfriend’s father. 

Stiles’ dad looked at the hand. He didn’t shake it. 

“Have you had sex with my son?” Stiles’ dad asked. 

“No,” Derek said quickly. 

“Dad,” Stiles protested. 

“Have you thought about having sex with my son?” 

Derek made a strangled noise and looked in panic across at Stiles. 

“Dad!” Stiles yelled. “If you ask him anything like that again, I will throw your steak in the trash and make you steamed chicken.” 

He brandished a spatula in his dad’s direction. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” his dad said. He walked over to the fridge, “Do you want a drink, Derek?” 

“Juice,” Derek said, “please.” 

Derek looked like a frightened animal ready to bolt. Something about the way he stood, all nervous and tense, reminded Stiles of the stray cat Derek had attempted to give him as a gift. 

“You sure you don’t want something more serious?” Stiles dad held out a bottle of beer. 

Derek made the strangled noise in his throat and said, “No thank you.” 

“You are old enough to drink though, aren’t you?” 

Derek nodded. 

“Twenty five, according to your license,” Stiles’ dad went on. He put down a bottle of beer for himself and then poured out two glasses of juice for the others. “That’s one hell of an age difference.” 

Derek shot Stiles a pleading look. The problem was that Stiles wasn’t sure the best way to answer these questions either. Anything either of them said could be taken the wrong way by his dad. 

“The longer we stay together,” Stiles said, “the less weird the age different will be.” 

That seemed to be the wrong thing to say because his dad rounded on him with narrowed eyes. 

“Do you really see this as a long-term thing?” he asked. 

“I don’t know,” Stiles said. “Maybe. It’s too soon to say. The only way we can find out is if we try it.” 

Stiles turned away from his dad with the excuse that the steaks needed to come out of the pan. He manoeuvred them out onto plates and then stuck the pan in the sink while the other two collected the plates and moved to the table. Stiles grabbed his plate and sat down, not commenting about the fact that his dad had nabbed the plate with the largest steak. 

“So, Derek,” Stiles’ dad continued, “what do you do for a living?” 

“I’m between jobs,” Derek said. 

“Did you go to college?” 

Derek nodded, “Major in English Literature.” 

Stiles gave a snort of laughter. The noise was surprised out of him before he could stop it. 

“ _You_ have a degree about using words?” he asked. 

Derek gave him a glare, and said, “Written words are easier.” 

Stiles supposed he shouldn’t be too surprised. After all, Derek had been the one to pick out the library as a destination, and he’d been working his way through those classic books he’d chosen. 

“Stiles mentioned that you have social anxiety issues?” Stiles’ dad turned the statement into a question. 

Derek nodded again, “It’s hard to talk to people. Especially people I don’t know.” 

This meal was probably torture for Derek. He had no choice but to sit there and handle the questions that were being flung in his direction. It was more like an interrogation than a conversation. Stiles wanted to reach out and take Derek’s hand, to reassure him that he was doing brilliantly. 

Then Derek gave a little smile and said, “Stiles talks enough for both of us.” 

Stiles was about the protest, the words of complaint already forming on his lips, when his dad gave a little chuckle. He nodded his head in agreement with Derek. 

The rest of the meal was no more pleasant, but at least from that point on it stopped feeling quite so much like Derek was on trial. Stiles’ dad was still driving the conversation, asking questions to which Derek gave short answers, but it was slightly less painful to watch. 

Stiles ate. Derek mostly just poked nervously at his food between questions, but he avoided anything that could be interpreted as feral. Derek just came across as quiet and shy. Stiles thought this was a victory in terms of getting his dad to see the Hales as human. 

At last, the meal came to its awkward end and Derek said he should probably be heading home. Stiles texted Cora to let her know that Derek would need a lift. He saw his dad raise an eyebrow at this. 

“She wanted to use my car,” Derek said in answer. It was technically true. It just didn’t include anything about the fact that they were travelling in groups to avoid evil hunters. While they waited for her to arrive, Stiles’ dad had a few more words to offer Derek. 

“I don’t approve of this,” he said, “but I learned a long time ago that Stiles will do plenty of things I don’t approve of and I should just accept it. I want you to know that if I find out you’ve been having sex then I will see you prosecuted to the extent the law allows. If you take advantage of Stiles, have any sexual activities without his full and express consent, or hurt him in any way, then the law will be the least of your worries. Do we understand each other?” 

Derek nodded. He had the frightened, deer-in-headlights in expression on his face. Derek hadn’t looked this scared when he’d been talking about how to protect the pack from hunters who might be planning on killing them all. 

“Dad, you’re scaring him,” Stiles said. 

“Good.” Then he added to Derek, “I carry a gun, you know.” 

Derek swallowed and nodded again. 

Stiles grabbed Derek by the arm and towed him out to the hall, giving his dad a glare. Out in the hall, he could hear the clattering sounds of his dad clearing the table. 

“Sorry about this,” Stiles said quietly. 

“He doesn’t like me,” Derek said. 

“He doesn’t like that you’re eight years older than me. You could be a saint and he would still object because of the age difference. He’s concerned you’re a creeper out to take advantage of my innocence.” 

“Innocence?” Derek asked, with a quirk of his eyebrow. 

“I am a paragon of virtue,” Stiles said. 

Standing there in the hall, Derek leaned in closer, smirking slightly. Stiles let him close the distance, grinning a little at his own expense. Derek’s lips pressed lightly to Stiles’, a soft touch of desire flavoured with a hint of romance. There was a thrill of the forbidden to kiss Derek like this, here, separated from his dad’s clattering by only one thin door. 

Stiles felt Derek’s hand in the small of his back, a beacon of warmth that spread heat through his body. Especially downwards. Such a gentle kiss shouldn’t be so profoundly erotic. 

Then Derek pulled away. 

“Cora’s outside,” he whispered. 

Stiles walked out with Derek to the car, his hand linked with Derek’s. Cora and Isaac were both there in the car. Derek climbed into the back and Stiles bent to talk to them all through the window. 

“Maybe you should all come round tomorrow,” Stiles said. “Part of operation ‘get my dad thinking you deserve protection in case hunters attack’.” 

“To be followed by operation ‘think up a better name’?” Isaac asked. Stiles didn’t dignify that with a response. 

“We shouldn’t leave the house undefended,” Derek said. 

“Some of you then,” Stiles said. “Just come and hang out here and, you know, act human.” 

“Stiles is right,” Cora said. “It could discourage the hunters if they think we’re close with the sheriff.” 

Derek nodded. 

And just like that, things were arranged.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting. There will probably be another short break before the next chapter, but I'll try and get it up quicker. 
> 
> I wrote this one in a hurry to get something posted, so I apologise if there are more typos than usual.

“I’m having some friends over to hang out, play Xbox, stuff like that,” Stiles said over Skype to Scott. 

“What friends?” Scott asked. He followed up quickly, “Sorry. That sounded really harsh, but, you know.” 

Stiles did know. He had a few friends at school inasmuch as he would chat with them or sit with them at lunch. There weren’t many people though that he would invite back to his house to play games. 

“Who’s coming?” Scott asked, managing to be a little bit more tactful this time. 

“Well, you, hopefully,” Stiles said. “And Derek. And some of his pack.” 

“His pack? You’re having a werewolf party?” 

“Not exclusively werewolves. Not if you show up.” 

“Stiles, are you sure you really want to be inviting over a bunch of werewolves?” 

“Yes.” 

Stiles could have made a long argument about how they were nice people and Scott was being needlessly prejudiced, but sometimes a simple answer was actually best. Stiles delivered his definite response and Scott just stared at him in silence for a moment, unsure of what to say. Or the connection had frozen. 

Nope, Scott’s image was still moving. 

Stiles didn’t want to go into details about hunters and the need to get his dad on the pack’s side without actually giving away the big secret. He especially didn’t want to admit all that over an internet connection. Besides, conspiracies aside, he wanted to hang out with his bro. 

“Will you be here?” Stiles asked. 

“Fine,” Scott said. 

***

It was a small group that gathered at Stiles’ house. Scott was there as promised. Derek arrived with Cora and Isaac, the rest of the pack holding down the fort at the house in the woods. Apparently there’d been no sign of the hunters since the confrontation with Kate. Cora told Stiles this with as few words as possible, keeping terms vague to prevent them being understood by an outsider. She kept shooting glances at Scott throughout. 

Scott watched this exchange of cryptic news with a look of faint bewilderment. Stiles did the introductions and Derek gave Scott a polite nod of greeting. Stiles hoped this meant all the growling was a thing of the past. Scott just stared. 

Stiles set up the Xbox to play some silly Kinect games, on the grounds that they were amusing for people to watch as well as enjoyable for the people playing. And they were short, which meant they’d be able to swap in players every few minutes. Stiles grabbed Derek’s arm and towed him to stand in front of the TV in the living room. He’d already moved the coffee table to one side, after his first disastrous efforts at playing Kinect with Scott. Now, he explained the rules and kicked off the game. 

Derek stared at the TV screen with a look of intense focus. When he moved, it was in a rapid way, limbs shooting out and back like a martial artist’s strikes, controlling his avatar with precision. Stiles’ technique involved wild flailing of his limbs, his avatar moving all over the place to try and get the gold coins on the game screen. He tried not to feel too smug at how successful his flailing style was, since this was Derek’s first time playing. 

Derek played through a couple of rounds, then decided this was enough for him for now. He went to the corner of the room and took out a book. He’d brought one of the library books with him. Stiles decided this wasn’t the time to criticise the act of turning up to a social gathering carrying a book. Instead, he moved to sit next to him, watching Cora and Isaac take their turn with the game. Scott was watching the whole thing from a chair in the opposite corner, looking about as anxious as Derek. 

“I’ll grab us some drinks,” Stiles said, heading into the kitchen. 

“I’ll help,” Scott said quickly, hurrying after him. Stiles had expected this. 

Stiles went to grab some soda cans out of the fridge and then turned on Scott. 

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked in a hissed whisper. 

“What’s wrong with me?” Scott asked. 

“This is supposed to be fun. You know: games, conversation, socialising. You’re staring at everyone like you expect them to eat you.” 

“Yeah... but... they...” 

Scott drifted into silence and Cora supplied the answer by calling through from the other room. 

“Are able to hear everything you’re saying,” she finished the sentence. 

Scott jumped. Stiles jumped a little too, just from the surprise, and nearly dropped the cans of soda he was holding. 

“Stupid, freaking, werewolf super-hearing,” Stiles said. He heard laughter from the other room. Scott still looked terrified as he followed Stiles back through to the living room. Cora was waiting for them, a smirk on her face. She looked Scott up and down. 

“Do worry,” she said. “I wouldn’t eat you. Not enough meat on you.” 

“Good to know,” Scott muttered. 

“Come on, relax,” Stiles said. “Otherwise this might win the award for most awkward social gathering in all of history.” 

“Excluding my eighth birthday party,” Scott commented. 

“Excluding Scott’s eighth birthday party,” Stiles repeated. Three pairs of confused werewolf eyes were fixed on him. 

“What happened at his eighth birthday party?” It was Derek who asked the question, looking up over the edge of his book. Stiles felt like he ought to go over there with gold star stickers for this act of participating in the conversation. Instead, he just exchanged a grin with Scott. 

“That secret we shall take to our graves,” Stiles said solemnly. 

“Let me guess,” said Isaac, “your mom invited the entire class but no one showed up?” 

“I was late,” Stiles said, “because my dad got held up at work and when I got there, I found Scott crying and trying to eat the entire birthday cake by himself.” 

Even Scott managed a little smile at that, the memory made sweet by the passage of time. 

“If this is how you define taking a secret to your grave,” Cora said, “we may have to revise our policy of trusting you.” 

“Oh come on. I can keep secret about the important stuff.” 

“Like what?” 

“Well, if I told you, it wouldn’t be a secret anymore, would it?” Stiles said. 

“He’s got a point there,” Derek said. He was bent over his book again. 

Stiles ushered his little party back to the games. Thankfully, the ice was broken now and there were promises that none of his guests would get eaten, so things went a little more smoothly. Those who weren’t playing would talk about random stuff and then take over on the Kinect when a round finished. 

Scott relaxed enough to start sharing embarrassing stories about Stiles to make up for the eighth birthday story. Stiles should have been annoyed, but it was nice to see Scott talking with the werewolves. 

In between games, Stiles would sit beside Derek, who was still buried in his book. But Derek would reach out a hand, brushing his fingers against Stiles’ arm, or pulling him against his side. There was nothing sexual about it, just a casual maintaining of contact that was beautifully intimate. Whenever he was seated, Stiles would feel that soft brush of Derek’s warm fingers against his skin, a reminder that he wasn’t alone. Stiles wasn’t entirely sure which of them it was meant as a reminder for. 

They switched games after a while and Stiles put in a fighting game. This very quickly led to Cora having an argument with the games console about the fact it wasn’t registering her kicks properly. Stiles wondered if she was going to progress from beating up a virtual character to actually beating up the physical game. 

“Take it easy,” Stiles said, “or I’ll be forced to break out the yoga game. None of us wants that.” 

“You have a yoga game?” Cora asked. 

“I bought it for my dad. I thought it might help him relax.” 

Cora left the fighting game to the others to prevent actual bloodshed, and things went back to fun. They’d been at this for about an hour when the front door opened and Stiles’ dad came home. He walked into the living room and looked at the collected group. 

“Hi... everyone,” he said. 

“Dad, this is Isaac and Derek’s sister Cora. You know Scott and Derek.” 

“Good afternoon, sir,” Derek said. He put down his book. Stiles’ dad nodded at Derek, which as probably as polite a greeting as he was going to get. 

“Cora,” the sheriff said, “you’re the one who found Stiles when he got lost in the woods?” 

“That’s right.” 

“Thanks for bringing him home.” 

“No problem.” 

Stiles’ dad nodded again and then looked round the room, “You kids going to need some food?” 

“Yeah,” said Stiles. “Food would be good.” 

Stiles’ dad left the room. Presumably, he’d gone to order them some food. The group of them just stood there for a minute, the fun atmosphere broken for a minute by the intrusion. 

“Well, I think that went OK,” Cora said quietly. 

Scott was looking round in confusion again. 

“Does he know the big secret?” Scott asked quietly. 

“Of course not,” Stiles said. 

“ _You_ shouldn’t know the big secret,” Cora said. 

“In my defence,” Stiles felt the need to say, “Scott didn’t believe me about the big secret until he saw Derek going all glowy-eyed and growly and possessive.” 

“I was not possessive,” Derek said, still in his corner with his book. Stiles turned on him, more amused than angry, but determined to proof his point. He folded his arms and stared at Derek. 

“Oh really,” Stiles said. “So you weren’t all angry and jealous over the business with the cat?” 

Derek ducked his head lower over his book, making it harder to see his face. The others chuckled at his discomfort. Then a small voice broke through the sounds of amusement. Derek said quietly, “I’m sorry, Scott.” 

***

They finished up their party shortly after their food. Stiles saw them off, giving Derek a gentle kiss on the way out, but not going beyond that because he could practically feel his dad judging him from the next room. Derek made Stiles promise to come out to the house in the woods the following day. Stiles wasn’t sure if Derek wanted to protect his territory, or if he just didn’t like being surrounded by people still, even when most of them were his pack. Either way, Stiles agreed easily enough. 

Even Scott told him he’d had fun, admitting that he’d be happy to hang out again at any future group things. Stiles grinned at that, delighted that his bro seemed to be getting on with Derek’s pack. He wanted Scott to support him in this, and not just repeatedly make ominous statements about how Stiles was going to get eaten. 

Stiles went back into the kitchen to clear away the remnants of take out and his dad was there waiting for him. Watching him. 

“So,” he said slowly, “expanding your circle of friends, huh?” 

“That’s right.” 

“They seemed... nice.” 

Stiles resisted the urge to roll his eyes and point out that his dad had spent less than two minutes in the same room as them. 

“They are,” he said. 

“I still don’t like the whole Derek thing, but there’s nothing wrong with you having a few more friends your own age.” 

Stiles smiled. That was probably as close to parental approval as he was going to get right now.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I only finished this chapter this morning, so I apologise if there are more typos than usual. 
> 
> I'll try and not make you wait so long for the next chapter, but no promises.

Stiles was woken at two in the morning by a text message. He muttered a few choice words about inconsiderate people while he reached for his phone. It was a message from Scott. Stiles muttered a few more words about his so-called best friend who wouldn’t be his best friend much longer if he kept this up. He read the text. 

_Emergency. Please come at once. The old Miley laser tag place._

Miley’s had been an arcade and laser tag arena on the outskirts of town, converted from an old warehouse. Half the kids in town had been to birthday parties there, but then the recession hit and it went out of business. As far as Stiles knew, the place was still abandoned. So why the hell would Scott be there in the middle of the night? 

_What’s wrong?_ Stiles texted back. But he was already getting dressed because Scott wouldn’t have sent a message like that unless it really was urgent. 

After about a minute, there was another text, saying simply: _Please come._

Stiles was tempted to phone Scott right back and ask what the hell was going on, but his dad was sleeping right next door. Waking him up at this point would basically scupper any chance of getting out tonight. If his dad realised he was sneaking out in the middle of the night, it would probably ruin any chances he had of getting out of this house until graduation. 

Even as he was trying to pull on clothes in the dark, Stiles kept thinking of that confrontation with Kate and the way Derek had acted afterwards, checking every single room in the house just to be on the safe side. There was definitely something weird going on here. Stiles put his phone onto silent in case he got a call back and then sent a text to Cora’s number. 

_Got a text from Scott asking to meet up. Something weird going on. Might not have anything to do with you guys, but want to be safe._ He texted the address of the laser tag place. 

Stiles snuck out of his bedroom into the dark hall and inched along the wall, where the floorboards were less likely to creak. He carried his shoes to make his footsteps quieter too. He reached the stairs and hugged the edge of the steps as he crept downstairs. He was about halfway down when his phone buzzed again. A reply from Cora. 

_Don’t go alone. It could be a trap._

If Cora had been standing in front of him, Stiles might have felt the urge to point out that he’d never thought of that or maybe he would have texted someone about it. Unfortunately, sarcasm couldn’t properly be conveyed over text message. Stiles crept down the last few steps and then replied. _Scott’s already there. He said urgent._

He pulled his shoes on and did his best to unlock the door and get outside with the least possible noise. He locked up behind him, because he wasn’t completely irresponsible. Then he got into his jeep and started driving. The phone buzzed before he’d even reached the end of the street. He pulled over at the side of the road before checking, because he still wasn’t completely irresponsible. It was another reply from Cora. 

_We’ll meet you there._

Stiles wasn’t sure whether she meant her and Derek, or the whole pack. Either way, he was pretty sure either back up would be appreciated or Scott would owe everyone a whole lot of coffee. And a very, very good explanation. 

Stiles couldn’t think of any good reason why Scott would be at an abandoned laser tag arena. He couldn’t think of any reason at all why Scott would be out there by choice. Which left Stiles wondering all the reasons why he would be out there not by choice. He considered phoning Scott up. Was he even alive? Or had someone murdered him and taken his phone and just used texts to lure Stiles in? 

Those thoughts refused to budge from Stiles’ head as he drove. He pulled into the parking lot in front of the boarded up building. The sign was still up over the doors, dark and dirty now. The whole place was shut and silent. Stiles climbed out of his jeep and stared at the building. There was no sign of Scott. There was no sign of anyone at all. 

He pulled out his phone and called Scott’s number. It rang for a moment and then disconnected. A moment later, there came a text from Scott’s number. _Inside._

Stiles was stupid enough to come out to the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night based on a text. He wasn’t stupid enough to walk into an abandoned building where anyone or anything might be waiting for him. He tried calling again. Again, the phone rang for a moment and then disconnected. He was pretty certain now that whoever was in control of the phone wasn’t Scott. 

Stiles stayed by his jeep, wondering how long it would take the werewolves to arrive. Maybe their super-senses would give him a clue as to what was going on inside. 

There were a couple of quiet thudding noises in quick succession, followed by the hiss of escaping air. Stiles looked down, confused as to the source of the noise, until he saw what looked like arrows buried in the tires of his jeep. The rapidly deflating tires. 

In an instant, he darted around his jeep so that there was something between him and the building. Then he phone began to ring with Scott’s caller ID. Stiles answered. 

“Hello?” he said cautiously. 

“You should probably throw the phone on the ground and walk into the building now,” a female voice said. He thought it was Kate. He couldn’t imagine anyone else it could be. 

“Why would I want to do that?” 

“Sorry, Scotty boy,” Kate said, “it seems Stiles doesn’t care about keeping you alive.” 

Stiles’ blood froze. 

“Wait,” he said. Then, fighting the rising panic, “How do I even know you have him? You might have just stolen his phone.” 

Stiles had to stall her. Somehow. She couldn't know that he’d already sent a message to the Hales. Stiles just had to keep her talking, to prevent her from doing anything to hurt Scott, until Cora and the others arrived. Assuming she actually had Scott. That she had his phone was pretty ominous, but it wasn’t conclusive. 

“Say something,” Kate said, presumably to Scott. There was a short silence and then a thumping noise followed by a grunt of pain. “There are two ways we can do this: you can say something for your friend to hear, or we’ll start cutting bits off until you scream.” 

There was a moment of silence, then Scott’s voice, nearly frantic and with the wheeze of an impending asthma attack, “Stiles, get out of there. Call your dad. Just...” 

Whatever else he might have said was turned into muffled and unintelligible grunts. Stiles crouched behind his jeep, shielded from the building. He couldn’t call his dad without getting off the phone with Kate, at which point just might kill Scott. But Stiles knew that walking in there was a very stupid thing to do. She’d said ‘we’ when talking to Scott. That meant she had at least one other person in there helping her, possibly more. Stiles couldn’t call his dad without Kate knowing. But she didn’t know that he’d already called in the pack. At least, he hoped she didn’t know. That might be part of her plan. 

“Throw your phone down on the ground where we can see it,” Kate said, “and then come inside.” 

“If I do that, will you let Scott go?” Stiles couldn’t trust any answer she might give him, but every second he wasted was in his advantage here. He hoped. 

“If you do that, I won’t have any reason to hurt him,” Kate answered. “But if you don’t, your friend will see how I handle disappointment and it won’t be pretty.” 

“OK. OK, I’ll do it.” 

Stiles stepped out from behind the jeep, one hand raised, the other holding his phone to his ear. He made a show of bending down and setting the phone down on the ground, still connected to Kate. It took a few extra seconds and it meant he didn’t risk breaking his phone. He walked slowly towards the building, hands held up in a surrender gesture. 

His heart pounded in his chest, drumming away so loudly he could barely hear anything else. His raised hands were shaking slightly. If he screwed up here, he could die. If he screwed up, _Scott_ could die. 

He reached the building with its boarded up front, and it was obvious up close which board was loose. He swung it away from the wall and saw what had been a glass door. It was now a gaping hole into the darkness, with a ring of jagged shards. Stiles edged carefully inside, in through the gap between board and opening, worried about slicing himself open. He’d made it all the way inside when he wondered if he should have let himself get cut a little. Derek would be able to pick up the scent of the blood; but that would probably just make him frantic and irrational. No, it was better this way. 

Stiles stood in the shadows, peering into the darkness inside the building. He couldn’t see a thing at first, then he spotted a couple of points of red light. Laser scopes on guns. His hands were trembling again. He froze in the focus on those lights. 

“Turn around and put your hands on your head,” Kate’s voice came out of the shadows, away from the points of light. So she wasn’t one of the ones holding guns. That meant there had to be at least three people in here with him. Three enemies. 

Stiles obeyed the instruction but did so slowly. If anyone questioned it, he could claim he didn’t want to get shot because of sudden movements, but in his mind was the thought of delay. Derek was coming. Every second he could buy could help him. 

As he stood there in the darkness, he heard the movement behind him, then felt the hands at his wrists, pulling his arms behind his back. There came a zipping noise and the tightness of a plastic tie holding his arms there. He couldn’t fight now, but he hadn’t had much chance against three people with guns and crossbows anyway. 

“This is a really stupid plan,” Stiles said. “You really think you can take the sheriff’s son hostage? My dad will not let you get away with this.” 

“It’s not your dad we’re interested in,” Kate said, her voice just behind him. She was the one who’d tied his hands. She gave him a shove into the darkness and Stiles started walking, stumbling some slow, blind steps. She pushed his shoulder, urging him to move faster. Stiles wondered how it was she wasn’t worried about bumping into things. Night vision goggles? 

“Why are you doing this?” Stiles asked. 

“You know why,” Kate said. “There are rabid dogs in the woods and they need to be put down.” 

“So you’ll kidnap a couple of innocent teenagers to use as bait?” 

She gave a little snort, and then said, “Innocent?” 

“I resent that!” 

She stopped him walking and with a hand on his shoulder, pushed him downwards. 

“Get down,” she ordered. 

Stiles dropped into a crouch and then sat. She gave him another shove and he found a wall to his back. Beside him, something touched against him in the darkness. He nearly yelped in surprise, but then he heard the muffled noise, words rendered unintelligible by some impediment. 

“Scott?” he asked. 

“Mmfh, mmmm,” the response came, obvious affirmative. 

Kate wrapped another tie around Stiles’ ankles, pulling it tight. Now he wouldn’t be able to walk. He was truly trapped in here. 

He had to hope for a rescue. But Kate and her friends were prepared for werewolves. They were here expecting an attack. The building was surrounded by a parking lot so they could see the approaches. If the pack tried to get in here, they’d be shot before they could reach the entrance. 

Maybe the answer was for the pack not to act. Kate was presumably willing to kill all the werewolves and probably a couple of humans that could count as collateral damage. But would she be willing to take down the entire sheriff’s department? Maybe the answer here was for the pack to bring in the human authorities, let the sheriff deal with this as a hostage situation. But how could Stiles tell Derek and Cora that? How could he get them the message? 

“My dad isn’t going to ignore this,” Stiles said, he was addressing Kate but hoping desperately that Derek was out there listening and that he’d understand. “My dad is the sheriff of Beacon Hills. When he finds out I’m not in bed, he’ll have the entire sheriff’s department out looking for me. When he finds me being held hostage by a maniac with a crossbow, he’ll do whatever it takes to get me out of here alive. And surely you’re not planning on killing the sheriff? You might be perfectly happy to kill Derek, but can you really shoot a police officer? Multiple police officers? Because you’re crazy if you think you can get away with this sort of thing and the police won’t find out.” 

“This isn’t a matter for the police,” Kate said. “This is between us and the dogs.” 

“You’ve committed a felony,” Stiles said. “Of course my dad will see it as a matter for the police.” 

“I’m performing a public service.” 

“God, you really do believe that, don’t you? You think you’re justified in all this madness because you think Derek deserves to die. But he’s a person. And a hell of a lot nicer than you.” 

“He’s an animal. Now smile.” 

There was a blinding flash that left Stiles blinking away bright after images. He hadn’t been able to see much of anything in the sudden light after the darkness, but now he could make out a phone’s screen light as a beacon in the darkness. The shadow holding it must be Kate. 

“You really think you’re going to lure Derek here?” Stiles asked. “He’s not stupid.” 

“No, but he cares. Cares enough to leave you dead things on your doorstep, if my brother’s to be believed. He thinks you’re his _mate_.” She laughed a little. “And I’ve just told him that if he’s not here in five minutes, I’ll start cutting you up. The longer he takes to surrender himself, the more you’ll bleed.” 

Stiles wondered whether Derek was already outside, listening to all this. 

“You can’t afford to kill me,” Stiles said. “I’m your bargaining chip. If you kill me, you’ve got nothing to use to manipulate Derek.” 

Scott gave a muffled but obviously affronted grunt beside him. 

“Sorry, Scott,” Stiles said. “Nothing personal, but Derek’s spent more time growling at you than giving you gifts. You were leverage against me, not against Derek. So my point stands. Kate can’t afford to kill me.” 

“I can hurt you.” 

Stiles glared into the darkness, hoping for a defiant tone as he said, “I’ve played lacrosse with Jackass Whitmore. I can handle a little torture.” 

He knew that was a total lie. He was a wuss when it came to blood. At least he wouldn’t be able to see the blood in the darkness. Maybe he’d faint before the torture could really begin. 

Either way, he needed Derek to know not to do anything stupid. Derek couldn’t give in to Kate’s demands or he’d get killed. He needed to get Stiles’ dad here and let him deal with this on human terms. He really wished he had some way to know whether or not Derek had heard anything he’d said. 

“I wonder what torture will add to your jail time when my dad arrests you,” Stiles aid. “I hope you know a really good lawyer because that’s the only way you’re getting out of this without a serious prison sentence. I wonder if people get the death penalty for kidnapping and torturing teenagers.” 

“If you’re trying to frighten me, kid, you should know it takes a lot more than this to scare me.” 

“What about your friends? Do they really want to be accomplices to a felony?” 

“Maybe I should start this by removing your tongue,” Kate said. 

Stiles felt cold again. As threats went, that was one that was harder to brush off. His voice was such a big part of him that he wasn’t sure what he would do if he could no longer speak. He knew that there was always sign language and speech synthesisers, but it wouldn’t be the same. 

He felt more than saw the movement, but then Kate was in front of him again. He felt a touch against his leg. It was soft and gentle, almost a caress. Stiles thought of a whole list of insults to throw at her, starting with pervert for feeling up someone several years younger than her. But he didn’t say anything. The threat about his tongue echoed in his ears. 

There was a sudden slash of pain, a hot line down the front of his shin. He gave a yell that was a wordless cry of surprise. After that initial pain, there was a moment where he felt almost nothing, then a hot throbbing set in along the line of the cut. 

Over the pounding of his heart and the rush of fear, Stiles heard the approach of car engines. 

“Looks like the wolf’s come for his bitch,” Kate commented. 

“Holy crap,” a male voice muttered, over near the edge of the room. 

“What?” Kate asked. 

Then Stiles saw the flashes of blue from outside, showing in the lines around the edges of the boarded up windows. 

“It looks like half of Beacon Hill’s sheriff department,” the male voice said. 

“What?!” Kate asked again, more angry than confused this time. Stiles bit down a smile. 

A very familiar voice came through a speaker from somewhere on the other side of those boards. 

“The building is surrounded. Throw down your weapons and surrender.”


	15. Chapter 15

“Why the hell would the dogs involve the police?” Kate asked. She sounded almost offended about this. 

“Because you kidnapped the son of a police officer,” Stiles said. 

“Quiet! We need a way out of here. No one’s seen our faces. There’s no evidence. We just need to get away from here without the cops seeing us.” 

“You could ask them to send you a helicopter,” Stiles said. “That’s how it always goes in movies. Of course, in movies, the kidnappers usually end up dying in horrible and gruesome ways, but I wouldn’t have a problem with that.” 

“Shut it!” Then, presumably to one of her companions, she added, “Start taking a few shots, keep them away from the building.” 

“No way. Shooting wolves is one thing, but I’m not going down as a cop killer.” 

“Just fire warning shots.” 

“I’m not shooting at the police!” 

No one seemed to be paying any attention to Stiles and Scott, but there wasn’t much they could do with that, tied up as they were. Stiles might be able to scoot across the floor, but he couldn’t see well enough to know where to go. Instead, he waited and hoped his dad had a better plan than just waiting for Kate to be sensible. 

After a minute, there was a ringing of a phone. Stiles recognised Scott’s ringtone. There was a long moment where no one moved. The only sound was the bright music of the phone. Then Kate answered it. 

“Sheriff Stilinski, I presume.” 

“That’s correct. Let your hostages go before anyone gets hurt.” 

“You should back your men away from the building and no one will get hurt.” 

“We’re keeping our distance, but you must know that there’s nowhere for you to go. The easier you come with us now, the easier things will go for you in the future.” 

“I’ve got a different idea. You and your men get into your cars and drive away or I’ll start cutting your son into little pieces.” 

“You know I can’t do that.” 

“This isn’t how it was supposed to go!” Kate said, voice rising nearly to a yell. 

She’d planned this all out assuming that the werewolves would come. She hadn’t imagined that the pack would call the police and now she was a cornered animal. Stiles wondered if she might be more dangerous now than when everything had been going to plan. 

“Keep your men back or the kids die,” Kate snarled into the phone, then she cut off the call. She started back towards Stiles and snapped out, “Grab the other one. We use the hostages to make them clear a path and then we make a break for the car.” 

Stiles felt the tie around his legs snap and then she was hauling him upwards. Stiles went with her. Maybe once he got outside, his dad would be able to do something. He was aware of movement beside him, presumably her colleague grabbing Scott. Stiles felt the sharp line of a knife against his throat and heard Kate’s quiet warning not to do anything stupid. He already felt the burning in his leg from the earlier cut, so he knew she’d be more than willing to hurt him. 

There was a crack of wood as the entrance board splintered. One of Kate’s colleagues had just kicked it out from the doorway. Now Stiles could see him as a silhouette against the flashing blue lights outside. Kate shoved Stiles towards the opening. 

“Keep back,” a male voice yelled. 

Kate forced Stiles out through the broken door. Now there was enough light for him to see by and he saw the night vision goggles Kate’s men were wearing. They hadn’t taken them off, even though the police lights must be messing with them, probably because the goggles covered a large portion of their faces. They didn’t want to be recognised. 

The police cars formed a ring around the edges of the parking lot, past Stiles’ abandoned phone and vandalised jeep. There were officers there, with weapons aimed towards the little cluster emerging from the building. Kate was careful to keep Stiles in front of her as a shield. A part of him considered stamping on her foot or something and trying to make a run for it, but she had one arm tightly around him and the other held the knife close to his throat. Any attempt to run would end badly. 

Stiles let Kate move him a few more paces across the parking lot. He found his dad’s face in the sea of officers. He looked terrified. 

“Let them go!” he yelled. 

“You back off! Clear us a path.” 

“You know we’re not letting you leave here with them.” 

“But you are going to let us leave or you’ll see which of us we kill first.” 

Stiles wasn’t sure if her companions would go through with it, but he was fairly sure Kate wasn’t bluffing. He suspected his dad realised it too. 

They moved a few more steps. There was no reaction from the officers, no gunfire, nothing to provoke the situation. But they weren’t making a path for Kate either. 

She moved a little further, her men flanking her. One held Scott close in front of him. The other had a large gun, aimed towards the waiting police. Kate muttered something to that one. 

“The spray,” she said. He shot a look of confusion, so she insisted, “Just do it.” 

He reached into a pocket. A moment later, the air was filled with water. A line of garden sprinklers, or some modified version, shot out high-pressure spurts in all directions. They were buried around the edge of the parking lot, the spray penetrating into the trees on the edge, as well as soaking the cops and their cars around the edge. Stiles’ front was soaked in moments, he had to blink away the sudden water so he could see. 

There was a scream that was almost more animal than human, coming from somewhere in the treeline. The cops were yelling, trying to shelter from the spray, unsure if it was something harmful. 

Kate started running as soon as the spray began, dragging Stiles with her. She burst through the confusion of cops and towards the trees, reaching the edge of the woods as the water ran out. She kept her grip on Stiles, but the knife was no longer pressed so tightly against his throat. Now was his moment. 

He twisted in her grip. He tried to jab an elbow into her stomach, but his bound arms didn’t give him much freedom of movement. As he tried to pull away, someone else was there. 

Derek leapt from the trees. He grabbed Kate and threw her away from Stiles. He jumped after her as she fell, landing on top of her and pinning her down, hands pressing her shoulders to the ground. 

Then he gave a cry of pain, pulling his hands back from the soaked material of Kate’s jacket. Even in the darkness, Stiles could see the blisters forming where she’d touched him. Derek snarled, eyes and face shifting back and forth between human and wolf forms, unable to settle. 

“You can’t touch me,” Kate smirked. She kicked Derek off her. 

There was a click of a safety being released from a gun. 

“But I can,” Stiles’ dad said. He stepped up, aiming his gun at Kate. Derek turned his head away, shielding his werewolf features from view, as two deputies ran up. 

“Cuff her and get her in the car,” the sheriff ordered. The deputies obeyed. 

“You can’t do this,” Kate yelled, even as they dragged her away. “They’re animals. They need to be put down.” 

Stiles’ dad waited. He looked towards Derek, who was crouched on the ground, clutching his hands in pain, still looking away. 

“What did she mean by that?” Stiles’ dad asked. Derek said nothing. He seemed to shrink into himself. 

“This water,” he went on, “whatever she put in those sprinklers, it doesn’t affect us, but it hurts you. Why?” 

Derek was staring at the ground, but whatever was in the water was still hurting him, still doing something. Stiles could see the glow of his eyes coming and going in the darkness. Stiles had no doubt his dad could see it too. 

It was obvious that Stiles’ dad wasn’t going to move until he had an answer. It was equally obvious that Derek wasn’t going to give him one. Stiles couldn’t think of any possible lie that would get him out of this. So he took a deep breath. 

“Derek’s a werewolf,” Stiles said quietly. Derek looked up sharply. At that moment, his eyes were glowing red, there was fur down his cheeks and his teeth had sharpened into fangs. 

“I’m not a monster,” Derek said quickly, eyes pleading up towards the sheriff. 

The sheriff sighed. “When one person kidnaps my son and his best friend and threatens to kill them, and the other person lets himself get injured to save him, it’s obvious who the monster is.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “I’m going to need a really good explanation for all this, but right now I want to get that woman and her accomplices into a nice, cosy cell. Come on, Stiles.” 

He turned and walked back towards the cars. Stiles waited a moment beside Derek. Derek stood up from his crouch and slowly moved towards Stiles, arms out for a hug. Stiles stepped back quickly. 

“Don’t touch me!” 

Derek froze. Then he drew into himself again, wrapping his arms around his chest, head bowed, the hurt on his face painful to witness. Stiles longed to put his arms around Derek, to take that expression away, but he couldn’t. Not now. 

“I’m soaked in that spray,” Stiles went on quickly. “If you touch me, you’ll get hurt again. I need to clean it off first.” 

Derek looked him in the eye, and then nodded. He relaxed a little now that he understood that Stiles was protecting him, not rejecting him. 

“Come on,” Stiles said. “We have to make a statement about this.” 

***

The official statements they gave at the sheriff’s station were completely honest, they just weren’t complete. Stiles explained about the text, about how he’d thought it weird and texted the Hales, about how Kate had grabbed him. He just left out anything to do with Kate’s motive for the kidnap, feigning ignorance. 

The statement Derek and Cora gave was simple enough. They didn’t mention that they’d been able to hear Stiles inside, simply that they’d realised they were in over their heads and called the sheriff as soon as they saw the arrows in the jeep’s tires. They claimed not to understand why the stuff in the spray had hurt them but no one else. Cora had been caught quite badly, her face and arms covered in red blisters, but they were already healing. Derek had been further into the trees and had avoided much injury until he’d grabbed the soaked Kate. The effects of the spray would go down in the report as an unknown but short-term allergic reaction. 

Scott’s statement was similar enough, stating that he’d been grabbed on leaving his work at the clinic. He described his experiences and what he’d seen, but claimed not to understand Kate’s motives either. 

Kate’s companions were apparently ready to turn on her. They claimed that it had all been Kate’s idea. She had convinced them that the Hales were dangerous criminals and needed to be stopped, but they hadn’t realised how far she’d been willing to go. Both of them were happy to give evidence against Kate if it meant they got mercy from the judge. Kate, on the other hand, seemed to have completely snapped. She didn’t use the word werewolf, but she ranted about the fact that the Hales were monsters and needed to be stopped. Stiles suspected she was more likely to end up in a mental institution than a prison, but maybe that wouldn’t be a bad thing. 

It all took far too long. It was daylight before they were done at the station and Stiles’ dad drove them all back to his house. Stiles was exhausted, but his dad insisted that he needed to know the whole explanation. Stiles looked over at Derek, who was doing his trick of trying to make himself as small as possible. Stiles desperately wanted to give him a hug, to reassure him that he wasn’t alone. But he didn’t dare. 

“I need to take a shower first,” Stiles said. 

“Surely that can wait,” his dad said. 

“No. It really, really can’t.” 

Stiles went into the bathroom and showered. He scrubbed at every inch of his skin, he soaped, and then he scrubbed again. He washed his hair three times, and then once more just to be on the safe side. He made sure that every single part of him, even his back which had been pressed against Kate and shielded from the spray, was thoroughly clean. Only then did he emerge and head downstairs. 

The others were in the kitchen, Cora already filling in some of the blanks of the story. Stiles went over to Derek, who was sat at the table, and wrapped his arms around him. It was like that time at breakfast after the full moon. Stiles hugged Derek while he sat there. Derek put his hands against Stiles’ arm and leaned his head back into the touch. Stiles could almost see the tension easing out of Derek, just a little. When Stiles sat down, he kept a hand there on Derek’s arm. Derek reached round and covered the hand with his own. 

“Well,” Stiles’ dad said, “I think you should start at the beginning.” 

Everyone was looking at Stiles. 

“OK,” said Stiles, “You remember that night I said I got lost on the preserve?”


	16. Chapter 16

Stiles was woken by an angry voice, his dad almost yelling at someone to get away from the house, saying that the person wasn’t welcome here. Stiles was out of bed in a heartbeat, terrified that he would find his dad banishing Derek from his life forever. He stumbled down the stairs to the front door and peered round his dad to see Chris Argent standing on the doorstep. 

“I just want to talk to you about what happened last night,” Argent said. 

“What happened was that your sister kidnapped my son and his best friend, assaulted and injured them, and all this follows after your attempts to intimidate and harass Stiles. You should get off my property before I arrest you for trespassing and probably throw a charge of stalking into the mix.” 

“Sheriff, there are things going on that you don’t know about,” Argent started. 

“I think I have a pretty good idea what’s going on,” Stiles’ dad said. He turned to Stiles, “Unless you missed anything out of your explanation?” 

“Nope,” Stiles said. “I think we covered everything. Werewolves are real, the Argents are racist assholes who wiped out most of a family of them, Kate wanted to finish the job.” 

“We had nothing to do with the fire that killed the Hales,” Argent started. 

“Save it,” Stiles cut him off. “Your sister basically admitted to it. And last night she made it pretty clear that she didn’t care who got hurt as long as she got to kill the Hales.” 

“That wasn’t...” Argent started. He stopped. He tried again, “She wasn’t following the code.” 

“The code?” Stiles’ dad asked. 

“We hunt those who hunt us. We only take a life when there’s proof that a werewolf has killed a human.” 

“Seems like your sister didn’t get that memo,” Stiles said. 

“What she did,” Argent said, “I’m sorry. She shouldn’t have done that.” 

“The phrase ‘well, duh’ springs to mind.” 

“I just... I’m sorry about what she did, but you still can’t trust the Hales.” 

“I trust them a hell of a lot more than I trust you,” Stiles said. 

Stiles’ dad looked at Stiles and then back at Argent and said, “What he said. Now I believe I told you to get off my property, unless you really want to get the cell next to your sister. And if anything happens to Derek or the others, I know exactly who my first suspect will be.” 

Stiles’ dad slammed the door in his face. Actually slammed the door. Stiles grinned. 

“You know something, Dad?” 

“What?” 

“You’re pretty awesome.” 

“I am aware of that.” 

Stiles’ dad grinned smugly. Stiles was slightly tempted to whack him round the head, but instead he dove in for a quick hug. He had a dad who would come rescue him from evil, bigoted werewolf-hunters, and who would trust him about trusting a werewolf. That was awesome enough to deserve a hug. 

***

Stiles spent the day sleeping and lounging around the house, recovering from his night of adventure. His sleep schedule was messed all to hell, but he felt considerably better the following day. He headed back out to the house in the woods. Cora came out to meet him, looking surprised. 

“What are you doing here?” she asked. 

“I came to see Derek.” 

“He’s not here. I thought he was with you.” 

Stiles felt a cold terror filling him. He saw the emotion mirrored on Cora’s face. A million fears flowed through his mind at once. What if Chris Argent had come after him? What if Kate had got someone to bail her out of jail? What if there had been other traps? What if the wolfsbane in the water had had a delayed effect and he was dying of poison somewhere out in the woods? What if? What if? What if? 

Then Cora’s expression changed from fear to annoyance. She looked past Stiles towards the trees. Stiles turned. A few moments later, Derek stepped calmly out of the woods, as though nothing in the world was wrong. He walked across to them. Cora whacked him on the arm with the back of her hand. If she hadn’t done, Stiles might have been tempted to do the same. 

“You can’t just disappear after we’ve had kidnappings and hunter threats,” Cora said. 

“I was close by,” Derek said. 

Stiles turned to Cora and said, “Next time, hit him in the head. Maybe it will shake a few brain cells up. I had a calculator once that only worked if you hit it.” 

Derek growled slightly. Then he grabbed Stiles by the arm and started towing him towards the trees. 

“Apparently I’m going with Derek,” Stiles called back to Cora. “See you later.” 

She waved and headed back to the house. 

“Are you really sure this is a good idea?” Stiles asked. “I mean, Kate may be in jail and I know Chris said that the others followed some code, but is it really safe to be out here like this away from the pack? Only a couple of days ago, you were fretting about anyone being out alone.” 

Stiles fell quiet when it became clear from Derek’s expression that he was trying to line up the words to answer. Stiles waited, walking along beside Derek, dragged by the grip on his arm. Derek wasn’t looking at him. 

“They won’t attack so soon,” Derek said. “Not with the police watching. Not with Kate in jail. There are... others. Like Kate. They... they will be angry, but they will have to be careful. The cops. They will have to plan around the cops. We have time.” They walked a few steps further, then Derek added, “But if the Argents come to you again, tell me.” 

“Don’t worry, that’s pretty much guaranteed at this point.” 

Derek nodded. He kept walking. His hold on Stiles’ arm hadn’t changed at all. It wasn’t tight, but it was determined. 

“So... where are we going?” Stiles asked. 

“I need... I need to show strength. I couldn’t save you. You were in trouble and I needed someone else to save you. That... I don’t like that.” 

“You did save me. You saved me by calling my dad. Kate had prepared for werewolves, with those sprayer things. She hadn’t prepared for cops. You saved me by listening to me. And you were there when I got out. You did help me get away from her.” 

“It doesn’t feel that way. Not to the wolf. It feels like I wasn’t strong enough and that’s... like an itch under my skin. Uncomfortable. I need... I need to show I’m strong. To show I’m worthy.” 

“Is this a werewolf thing or an ego thing?” 

Derek considered the question. He stopped walking and finally let go of Stiles’ arm. He looked up at the trees. 

“Both,” he said. “A werewolf ego thing.” 

“OK. So your werewolf ego is bruised that my dad rescued me. And now you need to... what? Put on a display of strength? Prove you can protect me and provide for me?” Derek nodded. “Oh god. This is going to involve dead animals, isn’t it?” 

Derek looked guilty. 

“Damn it, Derek, I thought we were past the dead animal stage of our relationship.” 

Derek caught Stiles’ arm again and started walking. Stiles trailed along beside him wondering what he was about to see. Had Derek slaughtered a mountain lion to prove his wolfliness or something? He expected to be taken to some gruesome and hideous spectacle of death. 

Instead, there was a picnic blanket. The blanket was weighed down in the corners by jars filled with water and little posies of wild flowers. There was a stack of little Tupperware boxes in the middle. Near the blanket, in a carefully cleared space, was a small fire, with a cooking pot settled into it, from which came the smell of cooking meat. 

“I wanted to provide something,” Derek said, “and when we went to the diner the first time, you said that dead animals were alright as long as they were cooked. I will always have instincts and drives from my werewolf side that will make me want to do things that are... unusual for a human. But I’m better now. I know what’s not acceptable. When I get these urges, I want to try and channel them in a way that lets me satisfy the need but which is acceptable to you. It is acceptable, right?” 

Derek finally turned to look at Stiles, eyes almost pleading. Stiles looked again over the picnic site, everything carefully arranged. Stiles didn’t know what was in the pot, but it was something that Derek had killed himself out of some animal need to provide. And then he’d done all of this. The flowers, the boxes of more human-style picnic items, everything. Stiles could only guess at the effort and planning that had gone into this. 

“It’s not acceptable, Derek,” Stiles said. The look on Derek’s face was heart-breaking, so he pressed on quickly: “It’s amazing. You are amazing. You must be the sweetest rampaging, killing monster _ever_.” 

Derek gave a little smirk of laughter and Stiles moved to stand in front of him, pressing his lips to Derek’s in a gentle kiss. The fear hadn’t quite left Derek’s eyes though. 

“It’s really OK?” he asked. “I know you don’t like me giving in to my animal side.” 

“I don’t like waking up to a dead deer on the doorstep,” Stiles corrected. “This... This is beautiful and thoughtful and sweet and kind and...” 

Derek cut him off with another kiss. Stiles let him. He wrapped his arms around Derek’s back, pulling him closer. Derek moved from his mouth and started nuzzling into Stiles’ neck again, kissing and sniffing the soft skin under his ear. Stiles shuddered a little and clutched Derek closer. 

“How long have we got until the meat finishes cooking?” Stiles asked. “Maybe I could demonstrate how OK with this I am.” 

Derek nipped lightly on Stiles’ earlobe and then murmured, “What did you have in mind?” 

“Something that would make my dad shoot you and eviscerate me if he ever found you.” 

“Let’s make sure he never finds out then,” Derek said, and he tugged Stiles towards the blanket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone's enjoyed this story. Thank you to those who've left comments and kudos - always appreciated. 
> 
> Now it's time to decide what to write next. I have a few possibilities whirling around in my head. Any preferences for the following? 
> 
> Magical Stiles - Stiles is held prisoner by a coven and the only way he'll get home is if he learns how to control his magic and stops blowing stuff up. Meanwhile, his friends and family don't even know if he's alive. Lots of Stilinski family feels and a surprising amount of knitting. 
> 
> Miscommunication Trope - Derek thinks they're dating. Stiles thinks they're friends with benefits. All hell breaks loose when they realise this. Probably a shortish one. 
> 
> Sequel to Behind the Mask - It's a few weeks before the wedding and their enemies are trying to disrupt things. Stiles is hit with an amnesia curse at the worst possible moment and now Derek has to convince him that he's not an evil rapist. Derek, Scott and the sheriff, need to help fix Stiles before the media get wind that there's something wrong.


End file.
